A Strategic Withdrawal
by Lord22
Summary: The ships were there before him. All he had to do was give the order, and his vengeance upon Mal'ganis could be achieved. Yet though his heart cried out for retribution, Arthas Menethil could not go through with stranding his men. What the results will be is anyone's guess. ArthasXHarem.
1. Following Orders

**Chapter One: Following Orders**

The camp of Prince Arthas Menethil was filled with a doubtful air. When they had been summoned to war in a distant land to face a terrible demon, there had been enthusiasm. Yet when they reached Northrend, they found it a frozen and inhospitable land. One was never warm, even when sitting by a fire in full winter clothing. When they had encountered Prince Muradin and his men the mood had improved. Surely this was the true reason they had been called to action.

They had rallied, saved Muradin's forces. Together they had pressed forward to obliterate two undead armies. And following that, the bastions which had been guarding them. A Lich had been slain by Prince Arthas. Many gargoyles were blasted down by riflemen. Footmen hacked and slashed alongside Knights until victory was there. It had taken weeks, but they were just about ready to go home.

"Sorry but Mal'ganis is in another castle." muttered a soldier, prompting bitter chuckles from the other men.

Now it seemed their stay in this frozen land would be long indeed. The Prince himself spent many hours searching the wastes. He seemed beset by darkness, and distant. He did not walk amidst them as he once did, and there were rumors that he had become disturbed. He spent hours staring out from cliff tops staring into the heart of darkness with a fridged bearing. No one save Falric or Muradin could get through to him.

Captain Falric was a medium-sized, grim-faced man with a blonde mustache. He was a veteran of the second war and had more faith in the Prince than anyone. Yet even he looked unsteady as they stood in the frozen north. They were waiting for the Prince to return from light knew where. Once again he was gone.

So it was that when a zeppelin touched down, there was much excitement. It bore the crest of the Royal House. A man bearing the crest of an emissary of Lordaeron approached Falric. "I apologize emissary, but the Prince is away on an errand." said the Captain. "What brings you to this desolate place?"

"By royal edict, you men are to return to Lordaeron at once." stated the emissary. "Lord Uther has convinced the King to recall this expedition."

"We're to just pack up and leave?" asked Falric, feeling obligated to keep the hope out of his voice.

"That is correct," said the emissary, "my scouts report that the route to the shore is held by the undead. You'll need to find an alternate route back to your ships."

Then he turned around and departed. Falric remained silent for a long time, and then looked at the trees. The desolate forests which were thick and full of wolves. "To hell with the undead!" he snapped "We'll cut out way through the woods men!"

Good cheer had engulfed the men of Lordaeron for the first time in many days. They were going home.

Falric waited alone by the fire as his men got to work. They packed up weapons and supplies for transport. Others hewed their ways through the thick and skeletal trees. For his part, he awaited the arrival of his Prince, meaning to give him the news. Prince Arthas had taken Stratholme hard. He thirsted for vengeance upon the Demon responsible. Falric knew he would not be pleased.

The Prince, a tall blonde man wielding a hammer, came marching out of the wilderness,. He was accompanied by a blonde dwarf wearing skull armor. The Prince approached and halted before him, his gaze looking at the places where the guards were. Muradin stood a ways behind, hammer and axe slung over his shoulder. Arthas looked to Falric in reserved confusion. 'Captain, why are the guards not at their posts?'

'Well milord,' said Falric, 'Lord Uther has convinced the King to recall this expedition.'

It was terrifying how Arthas' face turned to one of absolute rage, filled with malice. Falric took a step back, scarcely recognizing his Prince. At that moment Arthas looked more like a brutal warchief in human skin. Not the boy who Falric had befriended one cold day in Lordaeron City. However it passed, and Arthas turned around, making his way back to Muradin. "Uther had my troops recalled! Damn it!" He kicked out a fire. "If my warriors abandon me I'll never defeat Mal'ganis!" His tone became low, but not low enough for Falric to not overhear him. "The ships must be burned before they reach the shore."

Muradin looked concerned. "Isn't that a bit much lad?"

"Burned down to their frames!" Arthas snarled. "No one goes home until our job here is done!"

Falric turned and began walking back to camp, saying nothing. He reflected that he would not reveal the Prince's plan, or do anything to stop it. Prince Arthas Menethil was too important to leave stranded in Northrend. There would be new ships in a month or so. For his part, Falric hoped that he did not succeed, and vowed he would take the secret with him to his grave. He owed him that much.\

* * *

They kept their party small. Only the dwarves who had accompanied them to see the Prince's outburst were in the know. Evidently, the Prince did not desire the results of his actions to become widespread.

No sooner had they made their way back into the wilderness and Arthas, and Muradin beset by a vast horde of undead. Their weapons were out, and they rushed into battle. They struck down the creatures by the dozens with their hammers. Muradin shot one dead with his rifle, while Arthas used the light to scorch many to dust. The dwarves who accompanied them fired their mortars. But in the end, when they halted the Prince, and his friend had done most of the damage.

"We'll need more men if we're to fight our way through the undead." realized Arthas.

"I've found a few mercenary posts here and there," said Muradin "perhaps we could hire a few of them."

The mercenary post was a compromise of sorts. A sturdy, unadorned building. A place where local warlords could purchase forces. Arthas and Muradin approached it, followed by two pairs of dwarves. The dwarves carried two great chests, they entered and found within a group of warriors.

'What ye be wanting pink skin?' asked the troll, tone hostile.

'I need warriors, Zul'amon.' stated Arthas. 'I mean to destroy the undead guarding the way to my ships without involving my own forces. Do you have them?'

A slight unpleasant smile came to Zul'amon's face. 'I be having plenty o warriors for that purpose. But do you have the gold to pay?'

Arthas motioned to the dwarves, both trusted men of Muradin. They moved forward and opened the chest to reveal a vast sum of gold. The trolls took a step forward, a bit of awe on his face. Then he spoke. 'Alrighty then, I'll be seeing who I can whip up.'

'Good,' said Arthas, 'be swift. Time is against us.'

Thus the Prince made his way onwards, accompanied now by those who he should have been fighting. The trolls and ogres who walked alongside him were by all rights the natural enemies of his people. That he should now be forced to lower himself to using them, beasts instead of his own soldiers was a humiliation he would not forget.

'Damn Uther for forcing me to do this.' he hissed.

* * *

The shores of Northrend had been cleared of the undead. Vast hosts of twisted and deformed living corpses now lay in a second death by the freezing waters. Their ziggurats and graveyards were in ruins. Their Necromancers smashed by clubs or slain by axes hurl with deadly proficiency. It had been one last gamble, one last desperate race to reach the ships by the long path. And he'd had to do so before his men could get there first. They had passed through a gauntlet of spirit towers. Muradin's men had nearly been killed, and many ogres and trolls had fallen. Even so, the undead had suffered countless casualties. And here stood the Prince, looking down from a cliffside upon the ships of his soldiers far below.

This was it. If he gave the order, there was no going back. He would have to continue his war with Mal'ganis. Against his Fathers orders, against Jaina's wishes, to the very bitter end. And chances were that it would be a dark and terrible end indeed. Arthas looked to Muradin, who stood unsteady, doubtful eyed. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and then Muradin looked away. Arthas had rescued him. But if he burned these ships, he would likewise be condemning Muradin. At the very least, he would have an extended stay in Northrend. In this freezing weather, many men could die before a rescue could arrive. And that was assuming they were victorious.

They had already done significant damage to the undead. Yet Mal'ganis still eluded Arthas, the Dreadlord was not yet dead. Until he was destroyed, the threat to Lordaeron would never be over. So Arthas repeated in his mind over and over again. 'It needs to be done. Mal'ganis must be destroyed.'

"Is it worth it, lad?" asked Muradin, the voice of his doubt. "Is vengeance worth all this?"

Arthas did not answer, and then he caught sight of the glinting of armor in the trees. He looked down there and saw the advance party, hacking its way through the woods. If he was going to do it, it had to be now. Stirred by the need for action, he turned to the trolls and ogres. They had fought bravely for gold. They had aided him in destroying their mutual enemy in the undead and prepared to speak. Yet something stopped him. He would need an explanation for this to his men. If he did not provide one, there would be mutiny.

The ogres and trolls would not be missed. Blame them for it, and it would be true in a way. Yet that would be treachery of a new sort, and Arthas found himself hesitant to take that final step. His men were getting closer, it was now or never.

"You may disperse," he said. "you have performed your duties and aided me in ridding your land of the scourge."

The Ice Troll, named Zul'amon, looked at Arthas with suspicious eyes. "You mean not ta burn da ships?"

"Take your payment and go." said Arthas "Our contract is fulfilled."

So it was that the ogres and trolls departed that place, without further words. They began smaller and smaller in the distance. Until they disappeared around the cliffs. Arthas watched them go, face grim as he remained silent. That was the end of it. Mal'ganis would get away with what he had done. A terrible despair threatened to engulf Arthas. The butcher of his homeland would go unpunished.

"I'm so tired." he said at last.

Perhaps Muradin detected some measure of this despair, for he spoke. "For what its worth lad, I think you made the right decision."

The men emerged from the forest and reached the boats. "Ah! We've done it, lads! Let's board the ships and go home!"

Despite himself, Arthas smiled.

* * *

Arthas and Muradin made their way down to the shore, and the men turned to see them approaching in shock. They were covered in blood, and the grime of battle and they looked very tired. Falric moved forward, looking concerned. "Prince Arthas, where have you been?"

"Muradin and cleared the path to the shore of the undead,' said Arthas, "we shouldn't have any trouble bringing back our equipment with us. Stay where you are!" He snapped to the soldiers. 'I want this retreat to be orderly. No one is to be left behind, and nothing is to be left for Mal'ganis to use. That which we cannot take with us is to be destroyed."

"Yes," said Falric "of course milord."

It took some more hours for the evacuation to be successful. Arthas had the spirit towers on the ridgeline shelled to nothing. That allowed passage too and from the shore. On and on came the lines of equipment that was stored on the boats. Muradin had used most of his stores, while those they had brought with them had been depleted.

As it went on, whispers filled Arthas' mind, demanding that he go back and destroy Mal'ganis. Avenge his people, avenge his losses. Yet now that he had stopped heeding them, he saw that his pursuit of vengeance had been destroying him. It was amazing how lucid he was now that it was over.

Now that it was over.

Arthas remained behind until the last boat was being sent to the shore. Finally, when all had been done, Falric and he set fire to the shelters, they had established there. The fires burned high into the night, and they made their way down to the shore and got into the last ship.

Falric pushed them off, and they began to row towards the ships. As Arthas sat within it, looking at the bleak and wasted landscape, he was leaving behind him. Nothing had truly been solved. The undead were still a threat in Lordaeron, Mal'ganis still breathed. The land Arthas had loved had been twisted and cursed.

Now all that remained was ensuring things didn't get any worse.

It could have been his imagination. But he thought he heard or perhaps felt, a cry of unfathomable rage from Northrend. A grim smile of satisfaction came to his mouth. In the end, nothing was solved. Yet something he had done had frustrated a dark powers designs.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

This fanfic idea is one that I've had for quite a while. For those of you who don't know, there is an alternate ending to the mission dissension. If you let the timer run down to zero without destroying the ships, you get an alternate ending. One where Arthas' men reach the ships and go home.

I wrote this some months ago, but couldn't find a way to continue it.

Tell me if you think I should continue this, though my primary focus is on the mercyverse right now. I can't guarantee I'll even continue this beyond this chapter.d the first chapter.


	2. A Celebration cut short

**Chapter Two: A Celebration Cut Short**

The people of Lordaeron welcomed home their returning troops with cheers. They cast rose petals down upon the soldiers, who marched in great ranks. Woman swooned, as choirs sung and church bells rang in celebration. On and on it went, as Arthas walked the main street of Lordaeron City, flanked by Falric and Marwynn. Muradin walked alongside him. The two friends had spoken little since they arrived in Lordaeron. Arthas had wanted to go back to making war on the undead right away. But everyone had insisted that his most important duty was to be the hero.

That had always been his duty. Everyone looked at him to inspire them. Yet he had never felt colder and more distant from his people than he had right now. His faith in the light was shattered, for how could he have faith in a power which had allowed this to happen. Its warmth had gone out of his heart. Worse still, he suspected that his friendship with Uther destroyed. The man who had been a second father to him was not among the guests as he entered the castle. His only desire right now was to see Jaina and speak with her about something. Anything really.

He scarcely noticed the palace halls as he passed through them. Everything had become a terrible, dark filled blur. He and Muradin entered the throne room. Then went through the front door, being careful not to slam them against the walls. They fell to one knee before the throne of his Father.

King Terenas looked far older than he was. The failing years of the alliance had weighed heavy on his heart. Yet, even so, he rose to greet the two.

"Ah, my son," said King Terenas, "I knew you would be victorious."

"Victorious?" asked Arthas. "Mal'ganis is still alive. He will return at some point. This war is far from over because Uther had my forces recalled."

"This task was far greater than any one man can undertake alone, Arthas." said Terenas as he made his way down the steps. "Even so, you have caused our enemies great harm and rescued a Prince of Ironforge. That is accomplishment enough for now." He turned to Muradin, a wryly amused smile coming to his face. "You look much the same as you did when last I saw you Muradin."

"Well I'm a bit older." said Muradin as he arose, returning the smile. "No wiser."

There was a mutual laugh which Arthas did not share. He remained silent, barely remembering to stand up as he looked down at the floor. King Terenas looked at his son with a certain understanding. "Lord Uther has informed me about the situation, in particular, Stratholme. I want you to know that, given the situation, I think that you did the right thing. Sometimes a few must be sacrificed for the good of the many. It's a bitter lesson I had to learn as well when I became King."

"Do the Paladins share your optimistic assessment of the situation?" asked Arthas darkly.

"Of course not," said Terenas in frustration, "they lack perspective." Silence overtook them. "I've taken steps to ensure that all grain shipments are inspected from this point forward. The dreadlord will not take us by surprise again." He clasped Arthas by the shoulders. "I want you to know that I am proud of you."

It meant a great deal to Arthas. Far more than he thought it would, and he felt a lump come to his throat. Suddenly he found himself wanting more than ever to speak with Jaina. "Father, where is Jaina? I have not seen her among any of the guests."

Terenas fell silent. "Regrettably, the Prophet who came through here convinced her. She contacted the rest of the Alliance. And convinced them to undertake an expedition to Kalimdor. You missed her.

"I'm sorry."

"I see." said Arthas darkness returning to his tone. "Is there anything else?"

"Well there is to be a great feast tonight," said Terenas, voice light. "the like of which has not been seen since the second war ended. It will help peoples spirits I think. After that, there are some other matters which will need to be addressed. But don't concern yourself with those right now."

Suddenly the doors opened and into the room rushed a soldier. "King Terenas! A vast undead army is approaching Lordaeron City!"

At once Terenas took charge. "Rally the troops, and prepare to repulse the invaders."

"It appears the feast will have to wait." quipped Arthas, amused despite himself.

* * *

He and Muradin rushed together to the walls. There they found that Falric and Marwynn already stood ready. In the distance over the Silverpine Glades, a vast force of undead was marching towards the walls. Villagers were fleeing from their homes in the wake of the army. Such were the numbers of the undead that wherever they walked the ground seemed to die.

"Falric, rally the troops and gather all the knights you can find." said Arthas. "We're going to meet the undead head-on."

"We hold the defensive advantage here." said Falric.

"Do as I say!" snapped Arthas. "If we let them surround us they will turn the entire region into a wasteland! Now go!"

Falric moved off, and orders were given. Before long Arthas, mounted atop a white charger, led his forces out of the gates towards the undead. A legion of knights charged behind him. The ground shook beneath their hooves as they met the coming undead in battle. It was brutal, bloody, and like any other combat which had been fought with them. Yet this time the finest of Lordaeron were there. The combat swiftly turned against the undead.

Yet even as victory was within their grasp, great undead dragons flew into view. They spewed icy death down upon those below. Arthas raised his hammer and called upon the light as Muradin hurled a storm bolt. One of the dragons fell, as riflemen rushed up behind and opened fire, shooting them from the sky.

Soon there were no battle lines, or measure of order, just the living and the dead killing each other. Arthas waded through the fray smashing the beasts around him with his hammer. He slew whole lines of them while a pale light surged from him. Muradin moved with them, hacking and slashing in a berserk fury. Only a Mountain King could manage what he was doing. The combat lasted nearly half a day.

When it was over, far more of the undead had fallen than the humans. Their bodies numbered in endless thousands. The Alliance had suffered only a few hundred casualties. The men began to bury their dead. However, Arthas stopped them.

"Burn them." said Arthas. "Burn all the bodies until there is nothing left but ashes."

"But sir…" began a soldier.

"If we bury them, the necromancers of the scourge will come and reanimate them to fight against us." said Arthas in a dead tone. "They must not be allowed to do that. Falric, send messengers to all the nearby villages. Tell them that from this moment forward the dead are to be burned. Not buried."

"…Y-yes milord." said Falric.

"Marwynn, get together some men and find all the recently buried bodies in this region." said Arthas. "Dig them up and burn them."

"You want us to defile the dead?" asked Marwynn.

"It's a mercy compared to what the undead will do to them.' snapped Arthas 'I don't care if they are a noble, a peasant or the lowliest of serfs! Burn them all and let the light sort them out!'

The battle for Lordaeron City was over. The battle for Lordaeron had only just begun.

* * *

The end of the war celebrations was cut short. Arthas took personal command of the military forces. He sent out parties seeking the necromancers responsible. There was no feast, or if there was one Arthas did not attend it. He had work to do and swiftly set about arranging for the burning of countless corpses.

The flames of the funeral pyres rose high into the night. The weeping of those whose loved ones had been defiled sounded throughout the land. Arthas watched it happen with cold eyes, conditioned to atrocities by now. He'd had town criers explain the situation of course. But he knew that his reputation would never be as it once had been. Stratholme could be covered up, blamed on Mal'ganis. Yet what he was doing here was a personal attack on the sensibilities of his people. They might tolerate it, obey him, even see its necessity, yet they would not love him.

The fairy tale was over. And perhaps it was for the best.

Father appeared before him then, marching through the guards with a rare look of anger on his face. "Arthas, what are you doing. my son?!"

"What is necessary." stated Arthas simply.

"Arthas you are unwell," said Terenas, "you've been bewitched! Coffins thrown onto flames! The bodies of the dead drawn from their resting places and burned! Don't you see that you are doing is madness!"

"Is it?" asked Arthas. "The undead ranks are bolstered by the use of fresh corpses. If we deny them that resource they will be unable to gain a foothold in Lordaeron."

King Terenas stared at his son, unable to form words. Finally, he shook his head. "You are to cease this abominable practice at once. This is a direct order from your King."

"No." said Arthas.

There was a long silence as Arthas realized what he had just said. And realized that he meant it with all his heart. He held his Fathers gaze, in a battle of wills which went back and forth. Finally, Terenas spoke: 'I'd like to give you a chance to take back that statement, son.' he said in a soft tone, filled with iron.

"I cannot," said Arthas with a mad laugh. "how many people would still be alive today if you had just listened to your allies? What if you had quarantined the northlands at once? Instead of sending Jaina and I to investigate it? You could have done both. How many much stronger would the Alliance have been if you had executed the orcs? Instead, you forced your allies to pay taxes to give them free room and board.

"And they were grateful for your mercy, weren't they? The people of Strahnbrad can attest to the gratitude of the orcish horde. How do you account for your damnable mercy to them?

"You are the perfect king in many ways, and at one time you were everything I aspired to be. But if there is one thing I've learned in the past few weeks, it's this. You can't run a kingdom without getting your hands dirty."

"Captain Falric," said King Terenas, "you have proven yourself in the past to be a true patriot. I ask now that you take my son into custody, and relieve him of command for his own sake."

Falric remained silent for a moment, and on instinct looked to Prince Arthas for a response. At that moment it became clear who truly held power here. "Marwynn, you have seen first hand the horrors of the scourge, and the necessity of my actions. Take my father into custody." said Arthas "Take your most loyal men, and see to it that he is confined to the palace. Try to avoid any bloodshed, but if the palace guard resists you have my permission to use force. Keep it quiet. And make sure that Calia is also confined."

Marwynn moved forward. "As you command, milord."

"You can't do this." said King Terenas.

"When the crisis is over," said Arthas, "I will gladly yield back authority to you. You may choose Calia to succeed you if you so wish. For now, I have a Kingdom to save."

He then approached Muradin, feeling somewhat guilty for deceiving his friend. The dwarf met him outside, having heard nothing of the recent conflict between Father and Son. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about, lad?"

"Muradin," said Arthas, "I want you to go back to Khaz Modan. Your influence might prove essential in getting reinforcements from the other Alliance nations."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" asked Muradin. "I have some mates who I can trust with that kind of duty."

"Not this time, old friend." said Arthas. "I have the feeling that things will get worse before they get better. I need armies more than I need friendship right now."

"If you say so lad," said Muradin, "I'll set out right away. Be careful Arthas."

"When have I been otherwise?" asked Arthas with a wry smile.

Sometime later, a messenger arrived from the Silver Hand. The paladin went clad in white and approached him. At the time, Arthas had been writing a letter requesting supplies from Stormwind. With the corruption of the grain shipment, famine seemed likely to occur. He wanted to make sure he was prepared. Thus he was in no mood to receive him.

"I am quite busy, sir." he snapped.

"I am here on behalf of the Paladin order." said the man. "They have called together a council of the most senior Paladins. They command that you appear before them to account for your actions at Stratholme."

"I've already heard this speech from Uther." snapped Arthas. "Tell them that I have better things to do with my time, and so I hope do they. Now get out of my sight." He turned to walk away.

"The Paladin order will not compromise on this." said the paladin. "They are not requesting your presence. They are commanding it. If you do not meet with them, then you may be removed from the order."

That stopped Arthas where he stood. For a moment he looked down at a badge he wore, almost forgotten about. He remembered how overjoyed he'd been to become a Paladin, how he had wanted to be one from boyhood. He recalled some measure of the enthusiasm he had once held. He'd wanted to fight alongside Uther against the forces of darkness.

And he could not bring himself to walk away, not without one final reckoning. 'Inform Lord Uther that I will attend this council,' said Arthas 'but not as his subordinate. Give him those exact words.'

"I shall, Prince Arthas." stated the messenger.

As the emissary departed, Arthas found his bad mood worsening. He'd have to drop everything to go play to the whims of the Paladins. When had the mention of his order begun to leave a bad taste in his mouth? He had never exactly been close to any save Uther. But recent events had left him filled with bitterness and contempt.

Bringing Stratholme up likely wasn't going to improve relations any.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Well, here we have the second chapter of the story. As we can see, Arthas is still quite unsteady from his recent encounter. Though I'll admit I never expected him to go this far, even within the context of the text. Next time, we will see how Arthas fairs in his meeting with Uther and the Paladin order.

The decision to include a battle for Lordaeron City is based around the fact that there was one in canon. Though the exact details remain unexplained, I figured I'd start this AU out with Lordaeron City not falling to the scourge.


	3. Exile

**Chapter Three: Exile**

Mal'ganis was not pleased. Stratholme, meant to be his masterstroke, had been purged. Frostmourne, his backup plan, stood in its vault alone. And Prince Arthas had flown the coup. He'd behind him the obliterated remains of Mal'ganis' forces in the region. The trolls and ogres had started an uprising. They had driven the remnants of his forces from that part of Northrend. It would take years to beat them down again.

He sat upon his throne in Drak'theron Keep, thinking to himself. How could he salvage the situation? The assault on Lordaeron City had been an act of desperation; he would now admit. Initiated for fear of repercussions from his superior.

Then Mal'ganis' blood ran cold. Before him, green smoke was arising, and out of it stepped his superior. The Demonlord who now looked at him wore red armor, and his gaze was cold and furious. "You have failed me, Mal'ganis."

The Lord of the Dreadlords. "Wait!" said Mal'ganis, arising. "I am merely set back, Lord Tichondrius!"

"Set back?" asked Tichondrius, quite calm. "As you were set back when the Prince intercepted our grain caravans and crushed the army you raised? As you were set back when Stratholme was culled before it could be used?

"You have had a great many setbacks lately, haven't you?"

"I promise you, Lord Archimonde will enter this world with his enemies swept away." said Mal'ganis.

"And how will you do that?" asked Tichondrius. "The scourge is all but useless to us now. Your forces in Northrend are on the defensive. Your clumsy assault upon the human capital has failed. The cult of the damned are waiting for a messiah who will now never come."

"I do not need them!" said Mal'ganis.

Tichondrius looked at him. "Would you care to repeat that?"

"I have been playing an amusing game with the humans up until now." said Mal'ganis. "Since we were in no great hurry, I thought it would be poetic to turn their greatest champion against them. To have him lead my armies in the assault.

"Now, however, I perceive that the Prince is a worthy adversary. Thus I will no longer coddle him."

"The time for that seems long past." mused Tichondrius. "What forces can you use to bring about this imagined retribution? The scourge is all but useless to us."

"The scourge may still play its part." said Mal'ganis. "We need only time. Time enough to raise fresh corpses. Thus we can enlist the aid of some of the other factions in Azeroth."

"And why should I trust you with this task, Mal'ganis?" asked Tichondrius.

"Give me one more chance." said Mal'ganis. "And I swear to you, I shall engineer the downfall of nations. And from the ashes, the way to the summoning Archimonde will be made clear."

"…Very well, Mal'ganis." said Tichondrius. "I will give you your chance. And nothing else. You will no longer command the scourge. I will take care of things here from now on. You will have to rely on your own ingenuity. Do as you claim and you may be spared."

"As you command, Lord Tichondrius." said Mal'ganis.

Mal'ganis teleported away from his castle. No, it wasn't his castle anymore. Tichondrius had stripped him of it. Because of Arthas! Beaten! Humiliated! Stood up! He'd arranged it perfectly, and then Arthas had ruined everything! Now he was little more than an amusement for Tichondrius!

Humanity would pay for this. Especially the Prince. Before wiping them out was a job he enjoyed. Now it was personal.

* * *

Anderhol had recovered a little since last he had seen it. The blackened ground had receded, replaced with healthy earth. It was fall now, and the trees were shedding their leaves to coat the path he walked with orange and yellow. As he approached the meeting place, Arthas felt some relief at that. Lordaeron would not remain forever scarred as he had feared.

Once, in what seemed a lifetime ago, Arthas had attended a council with Uther to judge Tirion Fordring. The man had helped an orc escape. Now he attended a similar council to be judged. An irony which was not lost on him as he entered a little grove where the meeting would be held.

The Prince was unsurprised by those in attendance. Gavinrad the Dire stood some ways away, grim-faced as usual. Uther Lightbringer stood in the center, the greatest Paladin among them. Saiden Dethronan looked at him with calculating eyes. Alexandros Mograine was the worst, viewing him with obvious hatred. A few months ago Arthas would have been filled with shame and disappointment. It would have been soul crushing. Now that he had seen the things he had, however, the Paladin order didn't seem all that important to him.

He noticed that Uther was still at the forefront. So they were blaming the student, rather than the teacher.

Uther spoke, expression unreadable. "Arthas Menethil, the Kingdom of Lordaeron has portrayed you as a conquering hero. However, the Silver Hand keeps its own counsel on who we honor. Today it will be decided whether you remain a member of our order."

"Very dramatic Uther," said Arthas, "give me the sentence, and I'll take my leave." It was already obvious how things would end here.

"You may want to take this seriously, boy." said Uther, tone holding anger. "The other members of this council want you removed. I have convinced them to give you the chance to defend your actions. Your status as a Paladin is on the line; it would be well if you could at least take this seriously."

Arthas regarded the men around him, feeling very distant and without focus. He felt nothing for any of them, and so he tried to think of a way to respond. The light provided no answers. But then, he had really stopped regarding the light as anything but a weapon a long time ago. So he went with logic. 'My actions don't require any defense.' He settled on at last.

There was stunned silence. This was not the answer any of them had been expecting.

"Would you care to rephrase that, Arthas?" asked Uther, tone holding a note of horror.

"That is the second time someone has said that to me," noted Arthas in amusement. "If I hadn't burned that city this entire Kingdom would have been overrun. As for there being another way, I didn't see you or Jaina coming up with any ideas. Unless one of you could have summoned up a cure in thirty seconds. That was how long it took Mal'ganis to arrive everyone in Stratholme was as good as dead anyway.

"Was it what a Paladin should have done? Perhaps not. But then the Paladin order has been ineffective at combatting the scourge. The plague spread on your watch, gentlemen.' He shrugged. 'Either way, we all know how this conversation ends.'

'If that is your answer,' said Uther, 'we will convene and speak of this alone.'

'By all means,' said Arthas, before making his way out to the clearing beyond.

There was a garden some ways away. Whoever had worked on it had done their work well, for the plants were green and full. A fountain stood in the center bubbling with crystal clear water and surrounded by water. Arthas took in the sight around him for a few minutes. He realized that a year ago he would have felt a sincere sense of peace. He didn't feel it right now. The light within his heart was diminished. And though it bade him to let go of his darkness, he realized that he had lost his faith.

At that moment he knew exactly what would happen next, and he didn't give a damn.

"The Paladin Order has finished their deliberations," said a soldier, "they will see you now."

Arthas regarded him, and the man flinched beneath his gaze, taking a step back. "Well we shouldn't keep them waiting, should we?" he asked, voice easy, a replica of what it had been when he met Uther all that time ago.

He followed the man back to the meeting place. He found the Paladins, looking very grave and self-righteous. The exception was Uther who merely looked resigned. Arthas stood before them, not feeling anything. He didn't feel disappointed or depressed, or anxious or even betrayed. He just looked at the Paladins, waiting.

"The council has made a decision," stated Uther at last, "given your clear lack of repentance. Your reckless disregard for life, it has been decided that you are no longer fit to be a member of our order. I… I wish it didn't have to come to this, Arthas, but you knew were doing."

"You will leave your badge. And everything that represents your affiliation with our order behind." stated Alexandros, voice filled with satisfaction.

"Excellent," said Arthas, tearing off his badge and tossing it to Mograine. "I expect you all to report to me within a week for orders. Make sure that there is proper leadership in this region in the meantime. Due to the strain of battle, I'll forgive the fact that you shouldn't even be able to hold this meeting."

"Who do you think-" began Gavinrad.

"I have convinced my Father to yield full control of Lordaeron's military assets to me." stated Arthas. "From this point forward, you are all my subordinates."

"You have no right-" began Mograine.

"I have every right," stated Arthas, "you seem to forget whose Kingdom you operate in. Good day gentlemen." Then he turned to walk away.

Just as he was reaching it, however, a voice stopped him. "There is one other thing." stated Alexandros. "Your Paladin hammer is to be left here with us."

Arthas froze where he was. It was his hammer. He unslung it from his back and looked at it. He'd wielded it through countless battles at this stage. He remembered when he had first got it he had been reluctant to wield it. After all, heroes traditionally wielded swords. Yet it had grown on him, and he had come to rely on it. Its weight had been a comfort to him, and he felt secure holding it.

It was… important to him.

Anger surged through him, and he considered caving in Alexandros' skull. Where had he been before all this took place? Where had any of them? Yet that wouldn't solve anything. For a moment he stood, torn by indecision. Finally, he relented and tossed the weapon beside him to land with a crash against the ground. Then he departed, beyond caring at this point.

As he departed a soldier rushed up to him. He has a message.

* * *

Mal'ganis could do this.

Yes, he had no support from the undead, but he didn't need them! He would merely have to find other stooges. And he had picked some out. They were a large pack of bandits in the wilderness of Lordaeron. While the undead had roamed freely, they had taken advantage of the chaos to operate for their own gain.

He had deliberately avoided destroying them, planning to kill them last.

Now he would use them. And one in particular. Descending down from the night sky he landed among them. They screamed and grabbed weapons but he raised a hand, and they all went deadly still. "Fear not, Aiden Pernolde. I am not your enemy. In fact, I've come to offer you your throne back."

Aiden Pernolde was not the most impressive figure, even when he was a king. As a bandit chief, he was even less impressive, and Mal'ganis could only assume he had other skills. These showed themselves when the average looking man at the back came forward. "That is a generous offer. You'll forgive me if I am skeptical. Why would you help us?"

"Your syndicate has been of great service to us, in its own way." said Mal'ganis. "By raiding the Alliance you have diverted forces from them. I thought I might make an alliance between us."

"Why should we ally with you, demon?" asked Aiden. "You're losing."

"Yes, at least it appears that way." said Mal'ganis. "However we are far from defeated. And you had best hope that we are never fully defeated. After all, Prince Arthas has become well known for his ruthlessness. Didn't he destroy a large part of your forces?"

"Yes," said Aiden, "he's gone out of his way to purge us from the wilds. I do not want to fight him directly. Perhaps a formal alliance might be in my interest. But what can you offer me?"

Mal'ganis summoned a flame to his hand. "Power. I can teach your syndicate to become spellcasters. Spellcasters with a power far greater than anything the pitiful Kirin Tor is capable of."

"And in return?" asked Aiden.

"Oh it's nothing really." said Mal'ganis "A small thing, a trifle. I need the corpse of the Necromancer Kel'thuzad."

An alliance was forged and Mal'ganis gained the first of his new pawns.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Well, this took forever to come out, didn't it?

I'm really sorry for the delay. I actually had the scene with the paladins written out early last year. But it wasn't enough to make a full chapter and I couldn't think of anything else to do. The problem is that right now, Arthas holds all the cards. The scourge has been largely defeated, and the situation is turning slowly but surely against them.

Then I came back to it and realized that Mal'ganis would both be pissed, and discredited by this. After that, it more or less wrote itself.

 **Edit:**

I'm going through all my old chapters. I'm working to improve the quality of the text. Hopefully this one will be a bit easier to read now.


	4. Digging up the Dead

**Chapter Five: Digging up the Dead**

It was a meeting of Arthas' high command a few weeks later and the subject had turned to corpses. Arthas looked over reports for a moment, then glanced up. "The burning of the dead is proceeding too slowly. We have to destroy all the corpses in Lordaeron before the undead can resurge."

"Arthas, there are thousands of years worth of dead in Lordaeron." said Uther. "You ask the impossible." The boy had not improved. He'd only grown colder and more driven to his goal. And Uther felt responsible for it, even if he had voted against throwing him out.

"It must be attempted all the same." Arthas replied. "Saiden, how goes the destruction of the dead in Stratholme?"

"We've destroyed more than half of the corpses." said Saiden. "However, the undead have been sending people to interfere. They steal wagons of corpses and the city is too large to cover it all."

"Then we will have to continue." said Arthas. "Falric what of the syndicate?"

Falric looked up. "They have changed strategies milord. Before they spent their time raiding and stealing valuables. But now…" He trailed off.

"Yes." said Arthas.

"Now they are stealing corpses." said Falric. "They kill people and take the dead. Or simply raid graveyards before we can get them."

"Then it seems they have joined Mal'ganis." said Arthas. "No matter, we would have had to destroy them eventually anyway. I want a full on a manhunt. When you capture a member of the syndicate, burn them at the stake. Then hang the charred corpse where the world can see.

"I want an example set of these traitors." He looked to the Grandmaster of the Paladin Order. "Uther, report."

"The Silver Hand has been working to find the cult of the damned." said Uther. "However most of them have gone underground. They seem to be waiting for something. It makes tracking them down difficult. However…"

"Speak." said Arthas.

"I have an idea of where their next target might be." said Uther. "The Tomb of Kel'thuzad. I'd like to send Gavinrad to secure it."

"Are you mad?" said Arthas. "We're burning corpses not protecting them. Send Gavinrad there and destroy the whole graveyard. I'm surprised you needed to ask me about this."

"Ah, of course." Destroying graveyards was against Uther's nature. It would have been unthinkable to him weeks ago. "I'll… see about it."

"Excellent." said Arthas. "Now I think the next question is where the hell is Alexandros and why isn't he helping us?"

"Alexandros Mograine took leave to go to Khaz Modan." said Uther.

"And you let him?" asked Arthas.

"He intends to forge a weapon, something he believed could be used to drive back the undead." said Uther "You see years ago he found a very powerful unholy artifact near Blackrock Spire. We put it away and then tried to destroy it when the scourge first appeared. Instead, we purified-"

"I don't care." said Arthas. "Do you believe he will be able to create this weapon? And will it be worth the loss of Alexandros for the time it takes to make it?"

"Yes." said Uther. "That is why I gave him leave."

There was a knock on the door and someone entered without leave. He was tall, even for an elf with long blonde hair and he wore crimson robes. Arthas looked at him with contempt. "Wonderful. Prince Kael'thas what do you want?"

"I came to deliver a message to King Terenas." said Kael'thas. "However, I find that he has been imprisoned in his own palace, and his son has staged a coup. Do you want to account for your actions?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you, Kael." snapped Arthas. "You can deliver your message to me, or no one."

Kael remained silent for only a moment. "…King Anastarian Sunstrider has concluded that the threat of the scourge is ended. Because of this, he has chosen to withdraw his forces from Lordaeron immediately."

Arthas took it in stride, but Uther could see his fist tighten. "You are no longer welcome here. Leave, and no friendship of ours goes with you."

"The feeling is entirely mutual." said Kael.

Then he turned and left.

Arthas had just banished the Prince of the High Elves for bringing him bad news. True, Dalaran was technically independent. But there was a certain amount of overlap with Lordaeron. Kael had great influence there. "…Well, that was a disaster." said Uther. "Your father worked for years to foster good relations with the elves."

"And how did that work out for him?" asked Arthas. "They are the last to commit themselves and the first to abandon the mission. They were all but useless to us from the beginning."

Everything was about use with him now. He didn't care about anything but his mission. Uther had to say something. "Lad-"

"I'm not interested, Uther." said Arthas.

"You need to stop." said Uther. "Can't you see that you are endangering-"

"I'm sorry, didn't I cross a terrible threshold?" asked Arthas. "Well since I have, I don't feel obligated to listen to your lectures. None of this would have happened if you hadn't had my expedition recalled. I'll deal with the Kirin Tor after I finish Mal'ganis." Then Arthas stood up and walked out of the room.

Uther looked at Falric. "This can't go on, Falric. Surely you must see that Arthas has been compromised. We must release King Terenas."

"No." said Falric. "Prince Arthas knows what is best. When the threat has ended, then we will restore King Terenas. And not before."

"He has been ruthlessly competent at stopping the spread of the undead." said Saiden. "I for one believe we should have supported him. That is why I voted for him to stay in the order."

Of course, Falric wouldn't budge. The man had chosen to help destroy Stratholme, rather than abandon his Prince. He and his men held Arthas in awe, as though he were a god, rather than a mortal man. This disturbed Uther greatly. They were convinced Arthas could do no wrong. And more and more Arthas only listened to them.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it now.

* * *

The chanting of unholy incantations was everywhere in the Syndicate camp. Pernolde had picked out the brightest of his minions and given them to Mal'ganis. The Dreadlord was an excellent teacher. Even as they spoke they had learned to animate many of the dead. Though not enough to make up for the loss of the Cult of the Damned.

Most of those spare corpses which the Syndicate made were sent to the undead bastions to fill out the ranks. Every one of them was needed, with the Alliance drawing ever nearer each day. Tichondrius had not exactly thanked him. But hopefully, it had convinced Mal'ganis' superior that he was still of use.

"Your spellcasters are progressing well, Pernolde." He said as he and as the bandit lord walked. "I may well have a use for you when this is finished."

"You flatter me." said Pernolde, who was clad in his armor. He motioned and a group of rough and ready men came forward, armed with axes and spears. At their head was a giant of a man wielding a huge sword. "This is Blackthorn, my most loyal subordinate. He was once the commander of the Knights of Alterac. He'll be more than capable of getting past any guardians the Urn might hold."

"Lord Pernolde, it is foolish to work with this creature." said Blackthorn.

"So you've said many times." said Pernolde. "However we have little choice."

"We shall see." said Mal'ganis. "The training of your new warlocks will take time, of course, but we can enact the beginnings of our plans. Blackthorn, you and your men will follow me with a contingent of ghouls. We have a matter of great importance to attend to in Anderhol."

They set out shortly thereafter. Anderhol was healing, much to Mal'ganis displeasure. The trees were beginning to mend and the blight was starting to disappear. All that work and it had been made for nothing. Most displeasing.

Then they saw the meatwagons.

"What in lights name is that?" asked Blackthorn.

"This crude contraption will allow us to transport the remains of Kel'thuzad." said Mal'ganis. "Now come, we have little time. Even as we speak our enemies move to destroy his remains and that must not be allowed to occur."

They pressed on down the path and soon enough came within sight of a village. A bell was rung as they approached. Out of the village came a force of soldiers with a black-bearded paladin at their head. "Turn back demon!" he cried. "You and your kind will not profane the graves of the innocent!"

"I have no interest in such petty creatures." said Mal'ganis. "Slaughter them all."

The battle was joined. Spears were hurled into the midst of the Alliance forces, killing some. But riflemen gunned down several bandits. Axe and sword met shields at a melee ensued. Mal'ganis sent forth his undead to assist the bandits. Blackthorn rode into the midsts of the riflemen and hacked his way through them.

Then the paladin was on him. Mal'ganis dodged away from his hammer. Then he sent bolts of shadow which reflected off of a divine shield. They met in a melee, clashing again and again. Finally, Mal'ganis shoved him back and sending a wave of dark energy through his enemy. The paladin screamed as he fell backward.

Mal'ganis was on him and drove his claw into the man's chest. He gasped and breathed his last. Around him, the battle was winding down. The remains of the Alliance forces made a stand and were cut down.

"Well, that is over." said Mal'ganis. "Burn the village. Kill everyone you find."

"No." said Blackthorn.

"What?" said Mal'ganis.

"I raid caravans and attack patrols because I was stripped of my nobility." said Blackthorn. "I do not burn villages for no reason. We'll already be overburdened with all these corpses, and we won't be able to carry away any loot. Go to the graveyard, get what you will, and let us be gone from here."

Wonderful. Mal'ganis was working with someone with a conscience. He'd have to break them out of it at some point. They made their way to the graveyard, an elegant place. Mal'ganis came to the doors of a great stone tomb. Smashing them down he found the sarcophagus of Kel'thuzad.

"So here they are." mused Mal'ganis. "Strange that we should go to so much trouble for a single corpse."

The retrieved the remains and made their way back to camp. And lo and behold Tichondrius made his appearance when the battle was already won. "It took you long enough." said the Greater Dreadlord. "These remains are badly decomposed. They will never survive the trip to Quel'thalas."

"I've already created an urn to preserve them." said Mal'ganis. "I'm no fool."

"Still, the other paladins remain a threat." mused Tichondrius. "Take these new servants you have gained and destroy-"

"No." said Aiden.

That was the second time the Syndicate had refused an order. And this time Tichondrius turned to take Pernolde by the throat. "You dare defy me, creature?"

"I am not your subordinate, demon." said Aiden. "My forces are thin enough as it is. I won't get involved in a head-on collision with Uther Lightbringer. We're not doing it."

"I could destroy you with but a word." said Tichondrius.

"In which case you'd get one more corpse, and lose your alliance with the Syndicate." said Aiden. "We are allies, not master and servant, and I will not destroy my forces just so you can head off a threat."

"Lord Tichondrius, these may become valuable servants." said Mal'ganis in a whisper. "We only need time to develop them."

Tichondrius let go. "Very well, at the least things have not been wholly derailed. The graveyards south of here has been wholly cleared of corpses. It will be difficult to establish a foothold in Anderhol again."

"You needn't fear." said Mal'ganis. "Lord Pernolde has been gathering corpses for us for the past month. He has raided many graveyards before the paladins can. And I have other means of achieving my ends than merely the undead."

"Then use them." said Tichondrius. "Take your forces and leave before the paladins amass for a counterattack. Your journey to Quel'thalas can now begin."

* * *

The reports were in. No one had dared to tell him what had happened to his face. Gavinrad, one of the original members of the paladin order, was dead. The bodies of his men had been stolen, as had all the bodies in the graveyard. Including Kel'thuzad.

Now Arthas was sitting on his Father's throne with his fingers clasped, just thinking. No doubt they would raise him at the first opportunity. "So the powers he once served have need of him again..."

"Told you my death would mean little." said a spectral voice.

"What?" said Arthas. "Am I hearing ghosts now?"

"It is I, Kel'thuzad." said the ghost. "I was wrong about you Prince Arthas."

* * *

Authors Note:

Okay, so this chapter is done. I never expected Aiden Pernolde to be badass enough to refuse a Dreadlord's orders. He was originally supposed to be just a spineless puppet to Mal'ganis. But I guess he'd have to have some leadership skills if he was going to run an organization of bandits.

As for Blackthorn, he doesn't get much development in the games, so I'm making up a personality for him. Pernolde decided to set the Syndicate to attacking the Alliance. I figured I'd have Blackthorn be one of the more reluctant parties.


	5. Into the Realm Eternal

**Chapter Five: Into the Realm Eternal**

The troll chieftain made his way into the little glade, glancing warily as he did so. The broken remnants of the elven runestones stood above them. Mal'ganis smiled as he saw his would be ally. He looked like he was alone, but further examination revealed hundreds of trolls in the trees.

"Ah, Zul'jin, I am pleased you came to meet me." said Mal'ganis.

"What be ya wantin with me, Lord of the Rotting Dead?" asked Zul'jin.

"It is not what I want with you, but what use we can be to each other." said Mal'ganis. "I am about to begin an invasion of Quel'thalas. My goal is to corrupt the Sunwell from which the elves draw their immortal powers."

"Dat be a pretty big goal." noted Zul'jin. "I be guessing you need our help?"

"Yes, well, the humans have proved more… resilient than I had anticipated." said Mal'ganis. "My standing forces may prove insufficient to break the High Elven defenses. With your help and that of the ogre legion, however…"

"We could be beating them.' said Zul'jin. 'But what assurances do ya be having that ya won't turn on us once we're done?"

"My forces are already weakened." said Mal'ganis. "I cannot afford to be making any new enemies. And both of us need allies."

Zul'jin remained silent for a long time. "Alright, we'll be bringing our forces to help, but dis had better be working."

"I assure you, the elves will suffer as your people have suffered." said Mal'ganis.

"Dey better." said Zul'jin, before fading into the shadows.

"You cannot trust Zul'jin.'" said Aiden to one side. "His people will abandon you the moment you appear to be losing. Just as they did with the Horde."

"An ironic statement coming from you, King Pernolde." said Mal'ganis. "Fortunately, I do not intend to lose. How fairs your army?"

"I've gathered a large part of the Syndicate together. They're marching toward the Greenwood Pass." said Aiden. "The elves have probably already seen them."

"Perfect," said Mal'ganis, "I will need your forces to keep them occupied for a time while our true plan unfolds."

"I can promise you a distraction." said Aiden. "However I will not engage the full might of the elven armies. Even if we make a distraction you're not going to be able to sneak past the elven sentries. Not without being detected."

"Leave such trifling matters to me." said Mal'ganis. "Ah, here he is."

An elf entered the clearing. He was very handsome, even for his kind, with long dark hair. He wore black leather, and he smiled. "Lord Mal'ganis, all is arranged."

"All of what is arranged?" asked Aiden. "Who is this elf?"

"I am Dar'khan, a gentle soul by nature." said the elf. "I have done more to advance the elves understanding of the Sunwell's power than any other. And yet for all my efforts, my reward was nothing.

"Now I will have to take what I desire."

"And what use will you be to us?" asked Aiden.

"I am entrusted with the reserves of the Inner Kingdom." said Dar'khan. "When Lady Sylvanas hears of invasion she will go personally to deal with it. All I would need to do is reposition my forces, and you will be able to slip by unmarked.

"By the time Sylvanas realizes she has been duped it will be too late.

"Silvermoon may be destroyed. And I will have what I have always desired: The Sunwell."

"Of course." said Mal'ganis. "You will receive your just reward."

"Now I must return." said Dar'khan. "Before I am noticed."

As soon as he left Aiden looked at Mal'ganis. "Just so we're clear, you have no intention of giving him the Sunwell."

"Of course not." scoffed Mal'ganis. "Dar'khan is a fool. A means to an end. But he has the wits to play out his part."

The die was cast.

* * *

Arthas stood upon a hilltop looking out over the beautiful view. A shimmering river ran below the cliff. Fish jumped in and out of it. A cool breeze swayed through the trees, sending his hair flowing behind him. He smiled, but there was no joy in it.

'Ah, wonderous eternal Quel'thalas.' said Arthas. 'I haven't been here since I was a boy.'

And sure enough there they were. An encampment of bandits and murderers gathered together. They were under the banner of the Scourge. Many undead were there with them. They had bypassed Lordaeron's watchers and reached the Greenwood Pass. Now they were hacking away at the trees to make their own entrance to the Realm Eternal.

The ghost of Kel'thuzad reappeared. "You see, Prince Arthas? As I promised, the bulk of Mal'ganis' new army lies before us."

"You seem very quick to betray your master, Kel'thuzad." said Arthas.

'"I told you, the Dreadlords are the Lich King's jailors." said Kel'thuzad. "He desires their destruction as much as you. The difference is that he must do their bidding."

"Milord…" said a voice.

Arthas looked up to see Falric approaching. The man saluted. "Yes, Falric?"

"The Syndicate has begun their assault on the elves.'" said Falric.

Arthas looked back to the camp which even now was emptying.

"Then let us go."

He made his way down the hill and mounted his horse. Drawing his sword, he motioned to the assembled soldiers of Lordaeron. "Men of Lordaeron! Vengeance awaits! Forth, let none stand in our way!"

Then he led the Knights in a charge. They found the Syndicate moving against an elven village. A force of elves was standing against them, holding them at bay while the people escaped. But they would soon be overwhelmed. Yet the syndicate had left no rear guard. It had not entered their thoughts they might be detected so soon.

They saw the knights approaching too late. Arthas' forces slammed into them. He cleaved the head of a bandit, before stabbing another through the throat. Hacking and slashing from horseback he drove them before him.

"Regroup brothers!" cried a leader, rallying his men. "Fight free of them!"

The bandits rallied around him and put up a knot of resistance, cleaving their way into the open. The undead arose from the bodies of the slain and threw Arthas' line into discord. Arthas summoned the light to destroy them. The remaining Syndicate fled into Quel'thalas.

"Pursue them!" cried Arthas. "We cannot let them escape!"

He needn't have bothered. Arrows shot from the trees, peppering the fleeing ruffians and killing many. In moments half of them had fallen, and in moments more most of the force was dead. A knot of them broke free, but Arthas doubted they would get far.

The combat was over. And out of the trees emerged many elves clad in green and blue. They carried curved swords and longbows.

"From the looks of things the elves have already gotten here." said Falric.

To the front came the elves leader. She was a tall elf, very beautiful, very curvaceous with long blonde hair and a low neckline on her armor. There was a window in her breastplate which clung to her enormous bust. Her lips were red. In her hands was a bow and an arrow was set to it. Many arrows were set to the bows of the men around her as well.

"You are not welcome here." said the woman. "I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger General of Silvermoon. I'd advise you to turn back, now."

"It is you who should turn back, Sylvanas." said Arthas. "Death itself is on your doorstep."

"If you mean these brigands I am quite confident of our ability to crush them." said Sylvanas. "Truthfully I was expecting more from so vaunted a threat. Perhaps the strength of Lordaeron has indeed waned."

And now she mocked the courage of the men of Lordaeron. Angry murmurs came from the men, but Arthas chuckled. "Mmmhmm, let me tell you what is going to happen in the next hour, Sylvanas. Soon there is going to be a messenger from inner Quel'thalas. He will have an urgent message for you. He's going to tell you that what you faced here was only a distraction and that the main force is on its way to Silvermoon."

And lo and behold a messenger rushed forward. "Lady Sylvanas! The elf gate is under siege!"

"And that will be Mal'ganis." said Arthas.

"How did you-" began Sylvanas "Nevermind, we have to deal with this. All forces draw back and stop the scourge!"

"I'm going with you." said Arthas.

"You-" began Sylvanas.

"I swore I would kill Mal'ganis." said Arthas. "You can either accept my assistance or be swept aside."

Sylvanas wasn't stupid. She knew she couldn't fight two battles at once. "Very well. Try to keep up."

She led them into the Realm Eternal, and they found devastation in their way. Mal'ganis had made his path clear with a series of villages purged. He'd avoided most of the strong points, preferring to break weaker targets and move on. Survivors spoke of horrors which were all too familiar to Arthas.

He was not at all surprised when they came to the wall and found the elf gate shattered and broken. The survivors of the attack were burning what dead had not been reanimated.

"So the elf gate has already fallen." said Arthas. "As expected."

"You!" said Sylvanas. "What happened here!"

"Lady Sylvanas," said a woman, "A huge force of undead were unleashed here! They came with help from ogres and forest trolls. We tried to stop them, but the reserves under Dar'khan Drathir never arrived."

"Damn it." said Sylvanas. "Quickly, over the bridge! If we don't bring this demon to battle, there's no telling what carnage he will cause!"

"I expect he'll kill every man, woman, and child he can lay his claws on." said Arthas.

"You seem to know him well, Paladin." said Sylvanas. "What is his goal?"

"The Sunwell." said Arthas. "He means to resurrect the Necromancer Kel'thuzad, or so I assume."

"He won't succeed." said Sylvanas. "Silvermoon is among the most formidable fortresses in all the world. And the Key of Three Moons will never be his."

Even as they made their way forward, however, a scout came forward. "Lady Sylvanas, Mal'ganis had gained the Key of Three Moons."

"What?" said Sylvanas. "How could he have done so so quickly?"

"The forest trolls launched several raids." said the scout. "He ordered out entire force to go after them. We thought that it was strange, but when we returned.. when we returned the villages were in ashes."

"Are there any survivors?" asked Sylvanas.

"Many," said the soldier, "he was in haste and did not stop to hunt us. But even now he is crossing toward the last gate."

"After him quickly!" said Sylvanas.

But even as they rode across the bridge, they found a great host of forest trolls waiting for them. They wielded axes and spears, and there were also many priests among them.

"Forest trolls?" asked Sylvanas. "Cursed creatures! Why now?"

The trolls came forward in great numbers. Their leader bowed mockingly. "Prince Arthas, da Dreadlord be wanting ta send his regards. We're to deliver dem personally."

"Feel free to try, animals." said Arthas.

He charged as Sylvanas loose volleys of arrows over his soldier's heads. Many forest trolls fell, but they replied with volleys of their own. An axe glanced off his shoulder, while a spear plunged into a knight beside him. Then Arthas was upon them. He cleaved the skull of the forest troll chieftain as the battle was joined. The screams of the dying were all around him as he struck off the head of a troll priest. Arrows continue to land in the fray always landing ahead of the melee. Elven archers were truly something.

The trolls broke and fled into the trees. Quite a few soldiers were killed in the opening volleys. But elven archers claimed many trolls. When melee was joined, it was vicious. Arthas cut down two trolls as they sought to flee. Several more were slain by green-feathered arrows. Then they escaped.

"Leave them!" cried Sylvanas. "We must make for Silvermoon! Mal'ganis must now be allowed to take it!"

They rested only a little before pressing on. As the days passed did they found the ground tainted beneath their feet. Tainted and blackened. Arthas was used to it, but Sylvanas looked ill. "This is… I've seen the orcs at work, but the very ground is being tainted."

"Fortunately, Mal'ganis isn't turning aside to the left or the right." said Arthas. "He's trying to get into Silvermoon before we can flank him. We should hurry. We may find your Capital held against us."

On they went. At last Arthas came to Silvermoon. Silvermoon the beautiful. Silvermoon the eternal. Silvermoon the proud. Silvermoon the on fire. The gates had been broken in, and trolls and ogres were streaming into it. Many of its high spires were broken and humbled, and screams could be heard within.

Sylvanas rushed forward in a panic. "Quickly my warriors, strike hard and fast! Slay the demon lord!"

Mal'ganis had set a rear guard. These forest trolls and ogres rushed to meet them. "Kill em all! Fer Zul'jin!"

'Forest trolls, and ogres!' said Sylvanas. "Fight through them! We must aid the defense!"

It was a vicious fight. Neither side was willing to yield, and both ripped at one another. A footman was crushed underneath a club. An ogre had his belly split by a knight. A forest troll was speared through the heart by an elf. A range caught an axe to the face and died where he stood.

Finally, the enemy broke and fled. Silvermoon was burning all the brighter now. Arthas could hear the screams. Just like Strahnbrad. Just like Stratholme. Would he always arrive too late? 'Press the attack! Let none survive!'

Even as they rushed into the city to fight and the battle was joined Arthas felt a presence. A presence which he hadn't felt since Stratholme. It was familiar. He rushed toward it and found Sylvanas beside him. Then he saw Sunwell Isle.

The golden aura which radiated around it had turned dark. The water between it and the shore was frozen solid. He rushed across it, his men behind him. And there he stood. Mal'ganis was standing by the Sunwell and next to him was an undead elf. The Dreadlord looked to where he was and smiled. And then he spoke, his voice carrying to the whole city. "People of Quel'thalas. The Legion thanks you for the generous donation of corpses which you have provided us. We are equally grateful for your refusal to involve ourselves Lordaeron. However, I fear that more is required.

"Now arise, Kel'thuzad, and serve the Lich King once more."

And out of the waters emerged a skeletal creature with no legs. Chains were on its wrists and horns on its head. "I live once more! The Lich King has granted me eternal life!" proclaimed Kel'thuzad.

Arthas ignored him. He rushed up the steps toward the Dreadlord raised a staff to block the blow. "Mal'ganis! Face me and die!"

"I'm afraid I haven't the time, and even less inclination. You are but the Dark Lord's failed experiment." said Mal'ganis. "You left me high and dry with my fortress in ruins. Now I return the favor, young Prince.

"We'll settle the score between us another day."

Then he and Kel'thuzad were gone in a flash.

"It's gone…" said Sylvanas. "I… its as if all the color in the world has been washed out. I feel… empty."

Arthas wasn't interested. "Quickly my warriors! The murderous ogres and trolls have robbed the high elves of their Sunwell! Slay them all in the name of Lordaeron!"

"Foul beasts!" roared a man.

"Kill them all!" said another.

It was a vicious slaughter that followed. Many forest trolls and ogres died that day. But many civilians and soldiers alike had died as well. The undead were purged, but the Sunwell was destroyed. The people of Quel'thalas wandered broken and listless.

"My homeland is in ashes." said Sylvanas. "What... what happens now?"

"Mal'ganis will strike again." said Arthas. "I intend to be there to stop him."

"…I'm going with you." said Sylvanas.

"Why should you care?" asked Arthas. "I thought the scourge wasn't a concern."

"My homeland has been humiliated, and the Sunwell corrupted!" roared Sylvanas. "I want revenge."

"Good answer." said Arthas. "Gather your forces. We'll leave as soon as this area is secure."

"Prince Arthas," came a voice.

Arthas looked up to see none other than King Anastarian Sunstrider coming toward him. The King's sword was in his hand and bloodied. His face was cut, and he walked with a limp. He stared at Arthas without comprehension for a long moment. Arthas regarded him, feeling empty. When he had first come to Quel'thalas during the Second War he and Varian had been anything but welcome. They had been subtly and not so subtly mocked. He had been regarded less as a Prince of a mighty nation, and more as a nuisance by the King.

Then, aside from a few priests who volunteered, Anastarian had sent no help at all to Lordaeron. Eventually, even that had been withdrawn.

The silence was broken. "I would have left Lordaeron to the scourge." said Anastarian. "You knew this. Why did you help us?"

He could have said it was for the sake of revenge. And that would be true. But that did not seem proper manners. He could have said because it was the right thing to do. But that would be a lie. "Does it matter?"

The proud King was silent. "...I suppose not. When we have recovered from this, Quel'thalas will honor its debt. I vow we will come to your aid when we can."

"I will hold you to that." said Arthas.

Neither one of them liked the other. But progress had been made.

* * *

Later Tichondrius and Mal'ganis walked in front of the newly reestablished undead forces. They were still weak, but in time they would grow strong again. "You've done well. So far." said Tichondrius. "However it seems that you have now run out of minions. The Syndicate is shattered, and the forest trolls have gone back to their huts. What is your next move?"

Aiden Pernolde had abandoned their alliance after the defeat. He had refused to show up for any more meetings, and Mal'ganis believed he was having second thoughts. If Tichondrius was hoping for Mal'ganis to admit defeat, however, he would be disappointed. Mal'ganis already had his next move in mind. 'I believe the time has come to reenlist some lost sheep. The Orcs of the Blackrock clan…'

* * *

Authors Note:

Well, it has been a while since I last updated any of my Warcraft fics, hasn't it? I've been focusing on other genres for a bit. But I figured it was about time for me to update A Strategic Withdrawal. It seems to be my most popular Warcraft fic.

I honestly think that Mal'ganis is the most competent Dreadlord in Warcraft. He is very good at Xanatos Speed chess.

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter is my great regret in A Strategic Withdrawal. At the time I didn't intend for it to be nearly as big and was just trying to rush through it. I have added some new confrontations with the trolls, but I did breeze through it.

In all fairness Mal'ganis didn't have an extended campaign like Arthas did. Rather than directly confront the elves he outmenuevered them. So the battle probably was a lot less bloody than in canon, or even the Mercyverse.

I wish I'd spent at least two chapters on this part of the story.


	6. The Burning Legion

**Chapter Six: The Burning Legion**

It was on a distant mountaintop of the Alterac Highlands that Lich and Prince met again. Arthas was not there in person. He'd used an artifact capable of projecting his spirit to meet with Kel'thuzad. He had no intention of getting within claw range of his enemy. Now the two of them regarded one another strangely in the howling wind.

"So, you're not upset about me killing you that one time?" said Arthas.

"Don't be foolish." said Kel'thuzad. "The Lich King told me how our encounter would end."

"The Lich King knew that I would kill you?" asked Arthas.

"Of course." said Kel'thuzad. "He choose you to be his champion long before the Scourge even began."

"He has a strange way of showing it." noted Arthas.

"All plans go astray." said Kel'thuzad. "As I'm sure you can attest."

Jaina fled abroad. Lordaeron in ashes. Endless war. Yes, Arthas could certainly say he had not planned this. "If he is so all knowing then how can the Dreadlords control him as they do?"

"They are agents of the ones who created my Master." said Kel'thuzad. "The Fiery Lords of the Burning Legion."

"What is this Legion?" asked Arthas.

"It is a vast army that has consumed countless worlds beyond our own." said Kel'thuzad. "Now it comes to put this one to the flame. My master was created to pave the way for its arrival. The dreadlords were sent to make sure he succeeded."

"So the plague in Lordaeron, the citidels in Northrend, the slaughtering of the elves." said Arthas. "It was all just to prepare for some huge demonic invasion?"

"Yes." replied the Lich. "In time you will find that our entire history has been shaped by the coming conflict. Mal'ganis was assigned to corrupt you into their champion. That is why he lured you to Northrend. Your strategic withdrawal made all his efforts for naught.

"Now he balances on the edge of a knife. The defeats you dealt to him have infuriated his superiors. If he fails again, he will be disposed of."

"His masters need not concern themselves." said Arthas. "I'll kill him myself. Isn't it time you told me about the second phase of the plan, Lich?"

"Certainly." said Kel'thuzad. "The first phase of the plan was to engineer the scourge. That would eradicate any group that might resist the Legion's arrival."

"Like my people." realized Arthas. "And the high elves." He remembered the sensation of rage. He'd felt it while leaving Northrend. Now he knew why.

"Yes." said Kel'thuzad. "Unfortunately the Dreadlords remain in power. And so long as they do, my master can take no action against them."

"So where are you going now?" asked Arthas.

"There is a functioning Demon Gate in the Alterac Highlands." said Kel'thuzad. "It is guarded by the assembled hosts of the Blackrock Clan. Mal'ganis would have us use the gate to receive the instructions of his superior. A powerful demonlord named Archimonde."

"I've fought these demon worshipping orcs before." said Arthas. "How do they fit into all this?"

"That, paladin, is a very long story." said Kel'thuzad. "Suffice to say they no longer hold any favor with the Legion."

"Even someone out of favor can be useful." noted Arthas.

"You are perceptive." mused Kel'thuzad. "Mal'ganis will likely attempt to recruit them. And I believe he will succeed. Where he will go once he has done so, however, I cannot say. Now I must return, or I will be missed. I will inform you of Mal'ganis' next move."

Arthas cut the connection.

* * *

Kel'thuzad returned to the camp of Mal'ganis, hardly even feeling the freezing winds. The demon looked up, noting that he had been several hours overdue. "You are late, Kel'thuzad. What kept you from this place?" 'A thousand pardons, Lord Mal'ganis.' said Kel'thuzad. "I have been organizing the scourge in preparation of our next offensive."

"No matter." said Mal'ganis. "We are stronger than we were. And the corpses these orcs have left in their wake have swelled our numbers. But the withdrawal of the Syndicate is most irritating. I had hoped to turn them into another source of necromancers and warlocks."

"We may do so in time." said Kel'thuzad. "Aiden Pernolde is a coward. His great hope is that we and the Alliance will tear each other apart with neither the victory. He will not stand against us when all else is conquered."

"Yes, I believe you are right Lich." said Mal'ganis. "Now let us see to this Blackrock Clan."

They journeyed into the highlands. As they did so, they were glad to see thousands of corpses lying all over the place. On stakes, or simply thrown haphazardly. The Blackrock Clan had left a vast trail of them on every path leading to their village. The ghouls feasted well and the Necromancers set about raising them.

Spirits were high as they approached. Then, at last, they were challenged. A force of orcs rushed out of the hills. They were led by a warrior wielding a great sword. He had skin as red as blood and his eyes were glowing green. "The Legion has sent the dead to test us! These mindless undead are weak, impure!"

Mal'ganis appeared before them with a sound like a thunderclap. Green mist arose around them. "Hold your blade, mighty Jubei'thos. This is no test, but a reward."

"A Dreadlord of the Burning Legion?" said Jubei'thos. "Then has the hour of judgement come?"

"Indeed it has." said Mal'ganis. "I am Mal'ganis, the emissary of the Burning Legion. Those who journey with me are necessary tools."

"You serve Lord Mannaroth?" asked Jubei'thos.

"I do." lied Mal'ganis. "You have done well to keep well to keep this demon gate safe. Yet now the time has come to make use of it. Take us there at once."

"As you command!" said Jubei'thos. "We have awaited your arrival for many years!"

They left behind their undead and the orcs led them through the highlands. It soon became apparent that what was called a village, was actually several villages. All of them very large. Ogres and trolls and goblins came out to meet them, an image of the Old Horde undimmed by the passing of an age.

They would not win any war alone. But allied to the Legion, they could be of use.

Warlocks made speeches. Several dozen human captives were sacrificed in their honor. At last, they were led to the gate. It loomed over the entire village at the highest point on the mountain. Flames burned constantly at the gates sides and also at the entrance.

"The orcs have yielded to us." said Mal'ganis. "The demon gate is ours Lich."

Kel'thuzad came forward and channeled his power. "I call upon thee, Archimonde! Your humble servant begs an audience!"

There was a flash of lightning. A noise like thunder rang in their ears. The orcs prostrated themselves as Archimonde appeared. He was tall with blue skin and to look on him was to look at the essence of power itself. His features were proud and regal, and also terrible. He looked at Kel'thuzad with a calculating gaze.

"You called my name, puny Lich, and I have come." said Archimonde. "You are Kel'thuzad, are you not?"

"Yes, great one." said Kel'thuzad. "I am the summoner."

"Very well." said Archimonde. "There is a special tome you must find… the only remaining spellbook of Medivh, the Last Guardian. Only his lost incantations are powerful enough to bring me into your world."

"Where should we search for it, great one?" asked Kel'thuzad.

"Seek out the mortal city of Dalaran." said Archimonde. "It is there the tome is kept. At twilight, three days from now, you will begin the summoning."

Archimonde faded without another word. Jubei'thos looked to his warriors. "Warriors of the Blackrock Clan! The times we have long foretold are here! We march to Dalaran!"

 **"TO DALARAN!"** roared the other orcs.

"They have wit enough to play their part." murmured Mal'ganis.

* * *

Arthas was here for this meeting in person. Sylvanas was across the table from him, and Falric was by his side. The last member of their council entered the tent. Arthas looked to the old paladin. "Glad you could make it, Uther."

"Gloating does not become any man, let alone a King." snapped Uther.

"Neither does self-righteous posturing." mused Arthas. "Yet here you are."

"We don't have time for these arguments, gentlemen." said Sylvanas. "Arthas, you said you had news of the enemies troop movements."

"Yes." said Arthas. "My source is the same as what led me to Quel'thalas. I believe that Mal'ganis has entered the Alterac Highlands. He means to rally an army of Blackrock Orcs to supplement his undead."

"He wields and discards his minions like rusted blades." mused Uther.

"Were you expecting otherwise from a demon?" asked Sylvanas.

"At any rate, I believe he means to launch an attack against Dalaran." said Arthas.

"Why Dalaran?" asked Falric.

"The north is plagued and ravaged. The west is impassable frosty highlands with no real targets of worth." said Arthas. "And we are to the east. If one needed some spell of incantation to summon a demonlord, then Dalaran would be the place to find it."

"He might seek a decisive battle." mused Uther.

"That is not his way." said Arthas. "And Mal'ganis is seeking more than mere destruction. What we have faced here is only the beginning of what he intends."

"Light save us then." said Uther.

"What source is this?" asked Sylvanas. "My rangers have been scouting the area for months and yet what we have found pales in comparison."

"I have a spy in Mal'ganis' inner council." said Arthas.

"Who?" asked Uther, eyes narrowing.

"That is my own affair." said Arthas. "Rest assured I take all his words with a grain of salt."

"…So be it." said Uther.

"If we know where Mal'ganis is we should strike against him now." said Sylvanas. "Why take a defensive stance?"

Uther shook his head. "That would be folly. The Blackrock Orcs are heavily entrenched in those mountains. Lordaeron was in no position to hunt them all down before the plague struck. And Mal'ganis will have his undead with him."

"Then what would you suggest?" asked Sylvanas.

"…Falric I will go to Dalaran with a small force and organize its defenses." said Arthas. "Sylvanas I want you and your rangers to monitor the undead and orc movements. I want to be able to react quickly if the situation changes. Uther you will continue to purge the undead in this region. I don't want the scourge to make a comeback while we are distracted.

"And make ready to send a relief army."

"With all due respect lad, the battle here is almost finished." said Uther. "Shouldn't you take me with you?"

"Oh but I can't." said Arthas. "The Kirin Tor would never accept any army into their walls on their own terms. Instead, they would prefer to make due with mercenaries and adventurers from all over."

"I see." said Uther. "There is one other thing, Arthas."

"What is it?" asked Arthas.

"I have received word from Alexandros Mograine. He tells me that King Magni Bronzebeard has forged a powerful weapon." said Uther. "One strong enough to drive back the scourge. He is bringing it here."

"I doubt it will be of any use." said Arthas. "Falric is there any news of Muradin?"

Falric handed him several letters. "Muradin Bronzebeard has gathered an army from Khaz Modan. He is leading it here alongside a force from Stormwind. They are under the leadership of Grand Marshall Garithos. Daelin Proudmoore is already readying the Kul'tiran Marines for war."

"Grand Marshall Garithos." scoffed Sylvanas. "All that we could have asked for. How fortunate Lordaeron is that King Varian has such a profound sense of gratitude."

"You've met him?" said Falric in surprise.

"I worked with him before the fall of Stormwind." said Sylvanas with a shrug. "A competent soldier, but a racist. And far from the best."

"I'll remember this the next time Varian asks me for aid." muttered Arthas.

"He may not be able to send any more, milord." said Falric. "Varian has many other concerns."

"To hell with his concerns." snapped Arthas. "The war effort of the Alliance has revolved around Stormwind for fifteen years. It isn't as if he is a competent administrator. The least he could do is come himself.

"Why Father ever favored him is beyond me."

Sylvanas blinked. "I was under the impression that you and the King of Stormwind were the best friends."

"We were." said Arthas. "Falric make ready to go to Dalaran. I wish I had Marwynn with me. But I need someone I can trust in Lordaeron City."

"To keep your father in prison, you mean?" noted Sylvanas.

"In a palace." said Arthas. "And yes."

Later as Arthas readied his horse for departure, he found Sylvanas doing the same. He looked at her in surprise. The beautiful elf woman met his gaze carefully. "Is there a reason you have thrown the person who brought you into this world in prison? Along with the rest of your family?"

Oh yes. What he'd done would be considered unforgivable among the high elves. Respect for ones' elders is at the center of their family structure.

"He mismanaged the situation. I took appropriate steps. It doesn't concern me if you don't approve." said Arthas. "Your kind held me in contempt long before I did anything to earn it."

"What would you know of us?" asked Sylvanas.

"I lived in Quel'thalas for a year when the war came to Lordaeron." said Arthas. "I found my welcome less than pleasant. What about you? What are you doing here following me?"

"I am going to Dalaran with you because my sister lives there." admitted Sylvanas. "I haven't seen her in years. I'll base my rangers at Dalaran. With your permission."

"Granted." said Arthas.

Who was he to deny another the chance to see a loved one?

* * *

The city-state of Dalaran was majestic as always. Tall, elegant towers were everywhere. White walls barred the way in. A shining moat prevented any attempt to scale them. Yet the doors were open. And out of them rode Lord Antonidas. He regarded Arthas with a suspicious eye.

"Greetings Prince Arthas. How faires your noble father?"

He was never going to live this down, was he? "Lord Antonidas. There is no need to be snide."

"What brings you to this place, Prince of Lordaeron?" asked Antonidas. "I hope you don't expect to bring your armies in."

"No, merely to take command of your armies." said Arthas. "I have reason to believe Mal'ganis intends to strike here next, and I intend to ensure he does not take this city. I also have an idea of what he is after. But I will not speak of it here."

"We've prepared for his coming." said Antonidas. "My brethren and I have created a barrier spell which can destroy any undead that walk through them."

"Your petty magics will not stop orcs Antonidas." said Arthas. "And Mal'ganis is rallying an army of them. Now are you going to let me in, or shall we discuss our plans for all the world to see?"

"Pull your troops back and enter alone." said Antonidas. "Then we will speak. Make your choice, Prince of Lordaeron."

"As you wish." said Arthas.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Arthas stood in a room with six formless figures shrouded. He looked at each one in turn. They were really serious weren't they? They actually expected him to speak to them while they remained hidden.

"You desired to speak with us, Prince Arthas." said a formless voice.

Arthas closed his eyes. He'd had just about enough of the Kirin Tor's crap. "Get out here."

"We are the six." said a voice. "We choose our own time and place to appear to others. Even to Kings and Princes."

"Your names are Kel'thuzad, Antonidas, Krasus, Rhonin, Kael'thas and one other. I cannot remember her name. She was a political appointee and dead.' snapped Arthas. 'Kel'thuzad was removed from the order in a power play by Antonidas. Kael'thas is absent because he is tending to Quel'thalas. Krasus spends most of his time on leave with a wife who does not exist on any record that I have seen. As for Rhonin… what about Rhonin?

"So Lord Antonidas, would you be so kind as to drop your pathetic illusion, get out here and stop wasting my time!"

The illusion dropped to reveal Rhonin, Antonidas and Krasus. Antonidas looked at Arthas. "No one has ever dared speak to us in such a fashion. Let alone in our own sanctum."

"It won't be the last time if you continue like this, I assure you." said Arthas. "You've badly mismanaged the situation. If you'd kept track of Kel'thuzad, we would have known about the scourge years in advance. If you'd killed him, we might not have had to deal with the plague at all.

"Ordinarily, I would be courteous, but you decided to trade snark with me in front of my men. So I responded in kind."

"How do you even know who we are?'"asked Rhonin.

"Kel'thuzad told me." said Arthas.

It took a moment for that to sink in.

"What." said Antonidas.

"Well," said Arthas, "you ruined his life for resurrecting a few rats. So he wrote down every single secret of the Kirin Tor he knew and sent them in several letters to my Father. You're lucky he suppressed them. So, when were you going to tell us about Deathwing?"

There was a long silence. Krasus sighed. "By the time we found out about that, Deathwing had already turned the Kings of the Alliance against us. After that, the situation had been resolved. We saw no reason to alarm people with something no longer relevant."

"You didn't think it was relevant. I almost became the brother-in-law to the physical manifestation of evil?" said Arthas. 'Once he'd become King of Alterac he would have murdered me and Father. Then he would have used his marriage to my sister to assume the throne.

"You should have told us that Daval Prestor had been replaced. If only so his daughter could mourne him. But no, he just mysteriously disappeared. And you congratulated yourselves on a job well done."

Dead silence.

"Do you know why nobody trusts Wizards?" asked Arthas. "It isn't because they go around turning people who slight them into sheep. Well, it is, but there are other reasons. It's because they think themselves superior. They think themselves so superior that they don't tell their allies iimportant information. Even if their very lives could depend on!

"Deathwing didn't turn the Alliance against you! He exploited legitimate mistrust to influence the Kings into acting as he desired! And that mistrust exists because you remain convinced that you can do no wrong!:

For a moment the silence persisted. No one spoke. Rhonin looked to Krasus, who met Antonidas. Arthas waited. Finally, Antonidas spoke; "I will concede that we have made some mistakes.'

"Excellent." said Arthas. "Then I will tell you all I know."

And he did. The Wizards listened carefully, at first with a resentful air. But as he continued to speak, they looked at each other in surprise. Evidently, they did not understand how he had gotten the information.

"…How do you know all this?" asked Krasus.

"I have spies among the Cult of the Damned." said Arthas. "You don't seem surprised. So I might ask you the same question."

"We have not been idle." said Krasus. "Our magics have determined much that you have. And we have done some research into the nature of magic and the twisting nether.

"We know of the demon they intend to bring in. His name is Archimonde."

"I see." said Arthas. "What are our chances of killing him?"

"Nonexistent." said Krasus. "Or at least very low. He is a powerful demon, greater by far than any force in this world. I do not think that there is any hope of besting him, even if all the sorcerers of the world were gathered together as one. Our best hope is thus to prevent them from summoning him."

"What of the dragon aspects, Krasus?" said Rhonin "Surely they might provide aid."

"The dragon aspects might be able to match him if they were all assembled to meet him." said Krasus. "Yet they are not. I have made contact with them. The realm of spirits is facing troubles of its own and Ysera has not been seen. Nozdormu must turn his attention to all of time, not just the present. It seems Malygos has been fighting the undead in Northrend for years and cannot spare forces. And Deathwing is…"

"Deathwing." finished Antonidas.

"Yes precisely." said Krasus.

"What of Alexastrasza?" asked Arthas. "Is she not the Queen of the Dragonflights? The eldest and greatest of them all? She's done little to prove it."

"Her flights were decimated in the Second War." said Krasus, seeming a little too defensive. "They are only just recovering."

"Have you looked outside the Violet Citadel during the past fifteen years, Wizard?" asked Arthas. "All the world is recovering. Yet we are fighting the demons."

"You must understand, good Prince." said Krasus. "Dragons take a long time to grow up. Humans take only eighteen years or so. And Alexstrasza is loath to send children into war."

"You act as though there are no adult dragons left." noted Arthas. "A few of them could have destroyed many caravans of plagued grain. Yet no help was sent."

"There are other reasons." admitted Krasus. "Long have the Aspects protected this world from its enemies. But the time of their vigil is nearing its end. Now is the time when mortals must come into their own."

"Meaning that after laying waste to the Alliance, Alexstrasza has wholly abandoned it." mused Arthas. "So be it. I wasn't counting on any assistance from dragons. The question now is what we will do to stop this?

"If I may, the prophet who was here before." said Rhonin. "His warnings have thus far proven true. Perhaps it would be better if we paid them more heed. We have ships. We might save many if we send them over the sea to the west."

"Unfortunately, it may be too late." said Antonidas. "Mal'ganis will attack Dalaran long before any kind of evacuation can be made. We must hold the city."

"Then let us make our plans quickly." said Arthas. 'But first, there is something I want to know. What in Dalaran could be used to summon a demon like Archimonde?'

"We have many wondrous things here." said Krasus. "However there is only one capable of that. The more powerful the demon the more difficult it is to bring them in.

"The Book of Medivh has many rituals. Some of them capable of bringing into this world beings of godlike power."

Then Arthas saw the solution. It was so obvious it was a marvel they hadn't seen it themselves. "Well then, since he will need the Book of Medivh our course is clear."

And then he told them his plan.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay and here we are with the sixth chapter. For the purposes of this fic, Daval Prestor was a real obscure noble who was murdered and replaced. I am doing this because it makes more sense that Terenas letting some nobody into his court.

Also, Arthas is kind of a jerk in this fic. Of course, he actually has rational reasons behind many of the things he says. But he's still a jerk.


	7. The Siege of Dalaran

**Chapter Seven: The Siege of Dalaran**

It was a meeting between sisters long awaited. And it was made as Sylvanas was rushing through the streets of Dalaran with a message. The people here were afraid. They had heard news of the growing threat of the scourge. Though that was now diminished, the rumors of Prince Arthas' madness had dampened any joy. Rumors that he would soon come to desecrate the dead of Dalaran too abounded.

Then she saw her. Vereesa was carrying a bow and a newly purchased quiver of arrows, and Sylvanas stopped. "Vereesa it's been years."

Vereesa blinked. "Yes, it has Sylvanas." she said. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"It does seem that every time we meet, there is some kind of world-ending catastrophe going on." said Sylvanas, smiling. "First the Horde, now this."

"How is Quel'thalas?" asked Vereesa.

"Bad." said Sylvanas. "We'd barely recovered from the Second War when the scourge arrived. Still, it could have been far worse. Arthas isn't great company, but he is very good at fighting the undead."

"So I've heard." said Vereesa.

She should keep moving. But she hadn't seen her sister in years. "How is married life?"

"Fine." said Vereesa. "Rhonin is very kind." There didn't seem a lot of enthusiasm there. "Where are you off to now?"

"I have to deliver a message to the Prince." said Sylvanas. "Do you know where he is?"

"I'll take you to him." said Vereesa quickly. "Follow me."

They walked throughout the streets. As they did, they saw mercenaries from all over being housed. Troops were setting up barricades in preparation for the assault. Mages were practicing their spells. People were packing their valuables to flee into safe houses.

"How is morale?" asked Sylvanas.

"People are scared." said Vereesa. "The news is always of victory. But victory at a high cost. We've gotten reports of whole slews of crops being ruined. A lot of refugees fled to the Gilneas border. They would have been torn apart by the scourge. But Sage Truthbearer and Lord Nicholas Buzan the Fearless saved them."

"Paladins?" guessed Sylvanas.

"Yes." said Vereesa. "There are more and more desperate people fleeing here every day. I'm afraid that even if we beat this scourge, there will be famine and anarchy afterward. Unless…"

"Unless what?" asked Sylvanas.

"Unless we could launch another expedition to Kalimdor." said Vereesa. "Lady Jaina Proudmoore has been in contact with Antonidas. The word is that they have found good land."

"Well, it'll have to wait until after the war." noted Sylvanas. "Where is Kul'tiras during all this?"

"Daelin Proudmoore has been patrolling the waters around Lordaeron." said Vereesa. "The Alliance is afraid that the scourge might try to send grain shipments abroad to start a second front. He's been searching every ship."

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about pirates." muttered Sylvanas. "Any word on the reinforcements?"

"A few days away." said Vereesa.

"We'll come under attack before then." said Sylvanas. "I have to go meet with Prince Arthas."

Arthas looked across maps and strategies and plans. They were laid out across the table, covering it completely. He heard a door opened and looked up. Falric entered, clad in full armor. "What is it, Falric?"

"Prince Arthas we've brought most of our forces into Dalaran as you commanded. We're setting up defenses." said Falric. "Has there been any word from Sylvanas?"

Sylvanas barged in. "It is as you predicted, paladin. Mal'ganis is on his way here. He has a vast army of undead with him and also a horde of orcs. Every Blackrock in Lordaeron is coming here. I hope you have a plan."

"I do." said Arthas. "Orcs are less easily replaced than undead so Mal'ganis will strike with them first. I expect a full frontal assault of the gates which will not hold. Falric I want you and your men to be at the gates when they break."

"We'll hold them sir." said Falric.

"No." said Arthas. "You'll lose."

"Milord, what do you mean?" asked Falric.

"I want you to fight, and withdraw. Rally and be knocked back." said Arthas. "Keep your forces intact and yield ground. We need to give Mal'ganis the impression of faltering resistance."

"I don't understand." said Falric.

"Mal'ganis is very good at putting himself into an advantageous position. But when it comes to open battle he has no great skill at tactics." said Arthas. "He simply throws everything he has at his enemy while raising more.

"I want him confident in his victory. Relaxed. Absolutely certain that Dalaran is easily crushed.

"And then, just as he thinks he has won, I will spring the trap."

"What trap?" asked Sylvanas.

"I have made arrangements with the Kirin Tor." said Arthas. "Mal'ganis will gain nothing by his presence here. Muradin and Garithos will be here soon anyway. We need only keep the Dreadlord in one place for a little while.

"For now, you will focus on evacuating the citizens of Dalaran to a safe location."

"As you command milord." said Falric. He bowed and left.

Sylvanas eyed him. "What are you doing Arthas? If you just let the Dreadlord into the Violet Citadel without a fight he'll burn everything in it to ashes. The whole place will be torn to shreds."

"A static defense will not work." said Arthas. "We tried that at Harthglen. This is the only way."

* * *

It was a march unlike any other. Tens of thousands of ghouls and abominations and crypt fiends and every other type of undead spilled from the Alterac Highlands. Elven rangers harassed their flanks, and some fell, only to be brought back. Villagers fled before them or were overrun when they tried to hold their ground.

To Dalaran they marched. And they were not alone. The Blackrock Orcs marched with them, boasting of the deeds they would perform. Spirits were high among them. For that day which they had waited for had come at last.

And then they came to Dalaran. It was a city of white towers and violet tops. There was much magic here. A mortal might have found it beautiful but Mal'ganis had no appreciation for such things.

"Here we are." he said. "A city of stolen magic and hubris. This will be enjoyable."

"You seem to hold a certain grudge against these wizards, great Lord." said Dar'khan, clad in flowing black leather with a broadbrimmed hat.

"Your magic had its uttermost source in the Nether." said Mal'ganis. "These Wizards who proclaim themselves masters of the art are but charlatans."

"I was such a charlatan, and you are relying on me." noted Kel'thuzad, who seemed offended.

"Well, such is the nature of desperate times." said Dar'khan. "Shall we parley? You might take the opportunity to gloat?"

"I am a Lich." said Kel'thuzad. "My enmity with the Kirin Tor strictly impersonal."

"Is it?" asked Mal'ganis. "Wel,l the Legion's is not. Prepare for the assault."

"Lord Mal'ganis, let my warriors make the first strike!" cried Jubei'thos. "We shall make an end of these cursed wizards!"

"I do not doubt your valor, mighty Jubei'thos." said Mal'ganis. "However let us use a more disposable force for the frontal assault. Dar'khan you will send forth the full might of your undead through the gate and wash away the outer defenses. Once you begin to falter, Jubei'thos will rush his warriors in. He will clear away the remaining defenders.

"Then Kel'thuzad and I shall enter and take the book."

"I promise you, Lord Mal'ganis, it shall be done." said Dar'khan.

"Just don't burn any libraries." said Kel'thuzad. "I want the knowledge of the Kirin Tor preserved for study."

"But of course, Lord Kel'thuzad." said Dar'khan, adjusting his hat.

Then Dar'khan called forth to him his forces. He had assembled them throughout the past few weeks in the Alterac highlands to bolster his own. Yet there were others among them — the spirits of elven maidens, transformed by dark magic into banshees.

Ghouls rushed forward first and tore at the gates. Gunfire shot down at them from all sides. Wave after wave of ghouls was killed, yet there were always more. Soon their bodies were piling up, crushed underfoot by their brethren.

Pots of boiling oil were poured down on those who reached the gate. The ghouls screeched in agony but continued to slash at the doors. The gates first bent, then broke beneath the onslaught. Falling inwards the swarms of goals rushed in, only to be blown to bits by an onslaught of gunfire.

Waves of ice poured down on them, slaughtering them even as they fell.

"This seems wasteful." mused Kel'thuzad. "Surely Dar'khan you could have put meatwagons to good use."

"There will always be more corpses, Lord Kel'thuzad." said Dar'khan. "And when we have slaughtered the pitiful wretches of this city we may raise both them."

The ice shards ceased, and the ghouls resumed their advance. Dar'khan turned to a cultist holding a banner and nodded. The cultist unfurled it. Many necromancers moved forward and began to resurrect the ghouls who had fallen. A critical mass of bodies poured through the gate toward the barriers beyond.

Soon they were fighting with the footmen there. For every undead that fell, two more took their place. Finally, there was a horn call. The footmen retreated, a small group of riflemen holding back the scourge. They made it to the next barrier.

Dar'khan smiled triumphantly as the victory was made.

"The Kirin Tor are in retreat, Lord Mal'ganis." said Dar'khan. "Their armies can hardly hold us at bay!"

"For now." mused Mal'ganis. "Continue your assault."

Dar'khan entered the city personally while Kel'thuzad and Mal'ganis waited and watched. At the next checkpoint, the resistance was just as strong. Then once again it broke and retreated. The ghouls fanned out throughout the streets of the city, yet they found only empty buildings. The city had been evacuated to somewhere.

"Lord Mal'ganis! Give us the order!" cried Jubei'thos. "Let us strike the pitiful humans down before there are no more to slay!"

"This is too easy." said Kel'thuzad. "Antonidas is no great military commander, but he would not have let us in this easily. I should have expected him to have some counter for our undead at least."

"We are not facing Lord Antonidas." said Mal'ganis. "We are facing Prince Arthas."

"Are you certain?" asked Kel'thuzad.

"Of course." said Mal'ganis. "Arthas and his men have experience fighting my armies. They know that a static defense cannot stand forever against us. Thus he is making a fighting retreat to try and bleed us white." He paused. "Still, he is abandoning his positions more quickly than usual. He is deliberately drawing our forces into a trap."

"Well Dar'khan has been entrusted with only minor creatures." said Kel'thuzad. "So you mean to use him to spring the trap and plan accordingly?"

"Yes." said Mal'ganis.

"With all due respect Lord Mal'ganis," said Kel'thuzad, "we have a shortage of fresh corpses at the moment. Is it truly wise to waste them?"

"Fortunately, that shortage is about to come to an end." said Mal'ganis. "The Wizards keep their own counsel and run their own lands, do they not?"

Had Kel'thuzad a face his expression would have been one of dawning realization. "Of course." said Kel'thuzad. "Antonidas has not been burning his dead."

"Exactly." said Mal'ganis. "With our new forces, I was able to convince Lord Pernolde we still had a fighting chance. I dispatched the syndicate to begin resurrecting corpses. It should be simple while the Alliance had its eyes fixed on us. By the time we are done here, we will have yet another army.

"More than sufficient to compensate for any losses which Dar'khan may suffer. They could kill full half his forces, and we could replace them."

The sound of gunfire and battle-cries raged throughout the city of Dalaran. Further and further in the undead marched, heedless of casualties. And further and further back the Alliance retreated. They made a stern defense, then yielded ground. Made a stand, then pulled back.

It went like this for hours. And all the while Arthas watched from the Violet Citadel. He was adorned in his full armor and in his hand was a shining blade. Yet in his reflection, he did not see himself. Not as he once was. His eyes were dead. His blonde hair had changed, turning silver with the endless strain.

He felt well and truly old. When had that happened? He wasn't even in his thirties.

"Prince Arthas. The undead vanguard has been drawn fully into the city." said Antonidas. "Yet the Dreadlord is keeping his elite forces outside the city. We should act soon."

Arthas watched. Watched as the last of the lesser undead flowed in through the gate. Watched as the corpses were raised. "So be it. Activate the barriers."

Dar'khan led his forces forward. Nothing could stand against them! His enemies fell like wheat! At this rate, he would conquer Dalaran singlehanded. And surely he would be richly rewarded for his efforts.

Even now he saw the last line of defense before him. And there was Prince Arthas himself. The Prince of Lordaeron stood at the front of the line. In his hands was a sword and his forces were arrayed in full force.

At last the final stand. There was nowhere else for them to retreat to, save the Violet Citadel.

Dar'khan halted his minions and drew up the full brunt of his forces. He would wipe away the last defense in one swift stroke!

And then the air changed. Sparkles of blue light rained down from the sky.

Then there was agony. Dar'khan screamed as he felt the unholy magic which filled his veins running haywire. He tried to keep it under control, but around him, he could see ghouls shrieking as they burned to death. He fled behind the line, but the pain followed him as he collapsed to his knees.

"For the Alliance!" cried a voice.

Looking up Dar'khan saw the Alliance charge forward en masse. They slammed into his minions and began to tear them apart faster than even the spell could. Dar'khan rose and fired off unholy magic, and several dozen footmen fell beneath the magic. Yet more were on their way.

Then he saw Prince Arthas coming at him. His face was cold, a mask like death itself. Dar'khan backed away, sending a bolt of magic as he did so. But Arthas countered it with the light and came at him.

Dar'khan heard himself scream and ducked under the strike. Then he fled the opposite direction. He glanced back to see Arthas turning his attention back to the battle. Good, he could escape. Could reform. He was only following orders, Lord Mal'ganis could not fault him for that!

He looked forward just in time to see Sylvanas Windrunner step out of an alley with a gleaming knife. He slowed his pace, but she was on him. He caught her arm, but she bore him down. The Ranger General forced the blade down towards him. Dar'khan drew his own knife with his free hand, but she gripped it like a vice.

The agony of the spell was soon joined by a blade piercing Dar'khan's heart. He screamed in absolute agony. Then as the unholy magics within his body went haywire, they consumed him.

* * *

Across the city of Dalaran every single undead who had entered it was consumed. They could not retreat from the barrier, for it was too far to run. They could not defeat the Wizards who maintained it. The defense was too strong.

In a single day fully half the undead standing forces were destroyed. And their bodies were consumed, leaving nothing to raise. Kel'thuzad regarded Mal'ganis, who observed what had occurred.

"So… a barrier meant to destroy any undead that march into it." mused Mal'ganis. "A less cunning opponent would have used it at once. But you caught Dar'khan within it perfectly. Well played, young Prince.

"Well played indeed." He looked up to the orcs. "Jubei'tho, now is the time for your people to show the power of their race! Enter the city! Show the wretches the folly of opposing the Legion! Slay the wizards maintaining this barrier and put all you find to the sword!"

Jubei'thos smiled and drew his katana. "FOR THE HORDE!"

 **"FOR THE HORDE!"** cried his warriors.

Kel'thuzad looked thoughtful as the green-skinned orcs rushed to battle. Then he chuckled a loud and hollow sound. Mal'ganis looked to him in surprise. "Something amuses you, Lich?"

"More strange if I must be honest." said Kel'thuzad. "The last time I heard that battle cry I was standing on the opposite side. Destiny has a cutting sense of irony."

"Whatever destiny decrees," said Mal'ganis, "all things end in death."

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay, here we go. It's kind of strange that this seems to be my most popular Warcraft fanfic. I mean I put all that effort into the Mercyverse. Then the thing I write almost as an afterthought gets all the reviews. Maybe because the divergence point in this fanfic is less subtle.

I don't know. Here you go.


	8. Outgambitted

**Chapter Eight: Outgambitted**

The Blackrock orcs rushed against the defenders of Dalaran and met in mortal combat. A knight rode under an ogres club and slashed its leg off. A footman was cut down by a grunt. A barricade exploded into thousands of pieces. The blast sent friend and foe alike running for cover. Goblin sappers did their work well.

The combat was evenly matched for now. Yet Mal'ganis suspected it would not last forever. What mattered was that several of the wizards who had been maintaining the aura had been killed. It had faded away.

"Come, Lich, let us retrieve the book of Medivh." said Mal'ganis. "Cultist, tell the undead forces to make ready to retreat."

"I live only to serve, great Lord." said the man.

The Lich and the Dreadlord made their way over the broken gates. They found in their wake no corpses, for the undead had been burned away. Yet the cries of war could be heard and as they pressed deeper into the city, they saw orc and human in bitter combat.

At the front of the army was the Prince of Lordaeron. His sword was flashing. Dozens of orcs lay dead around him as he stood his ground before the onslaught. A blademaster rushed forward and clashed swords with him. Arthas turned the blade and cut off his enemies hands, followed by their head.

"And there he is." said Mal'ganis. "Magnificent."

The Prince of Lordaeron looked up and saw him. Calling aloud to his warriors he summoned the light. Many soldiers were brought back from death and charged back into the fray. Arthas hewed down orcs, fighting to reach the Dreadlord.

Yet his way was barred by Jubei'thos.

* * *

Arthas saw the blademaster before him. He was not like the others. His skin was blood red with fel energy. His eyes were shining with an unholy light, and he held in his hands a bloodstained katana.

Their blades met and clashed twice. Then they were face to face. "The Chieftain of the Blackrock Clan.'" guessed Arthas.

"The Prince of Lordaeron." said the orc. "I am Jubei'thos, Chieftain of the Blackrock Clan. Once before you foiled my plans. But now the Legion marches with us! We are the heralds of the end!"

He shoved Arthas back, and he was forced to step backward beneath a flurry of blows. It was all Arthas could do to keep from losing his head. Finally, he summoned a divine shield and felt his enemies blows fail. He struck at Jubei'thos, but the orc proved an apt defender.

"The Legion moves you like a pawn." Arthas said. "You are no herald. You are a sacrifice."

"Your city will burn!" cried Jubei'thos. "Your people will scream! And your head shall be presented to Lord Mal'ganis!"

"Spare me your orc rhetoric." said Arthas. "I've heard it before."

At that moment a huge ogre rushed at Arthas. It swung down its club, but Arthas ducked aside and raked his blade across both the creatures throats. As blood poured out, he noted Jubei'thos being drawn away from the fray by other enemies. The orc cleaved down a knight, and his horse with one blow then ran through a priest who was healing wounds.

Arthas healed the priest even as Jubei'thos drew out his sword. He moved to pursue, but there was a flash of lighting, and many humans fell dead. Looking up he saw an orc on a white wolf with a staff. He cast fire and lightning into their midsts.

Arthas rushed at him, but the very cobblestones beneath his feet began to shake, and he fell to one knee. The orc urged his wolf forward, and the beast bore him down. Losing his grip on his sword, Arthas gripped the wolfs head. He barely kept its snapping jaws from his face. He wrenched the creature by the neck, and it lay still.

The orc far seer had fallen from his mount. He struggled to stand, but Falric was there in a moment. Before the orc could raise his club, the Captain struck off his head and rushed to Arthas. "Milord, are you alright?"

Arthas grabbed his sword. "I am well. Are we holding?"

"Yes, milord." said Falric. "The orcs are losing their momentum."

"Good." Arthas looked up. Mal'ganis was gone. "We need only keep them from reaching the Violet Citadel. The people within will be safe."

* * *

The Dreadlord and the Lich had traversed the whole line of battle. And they had found the whole line of the battle firm and unyielding. Long ago the Horde had met such resistance at Southshore and broken it. Today, though the Horde fought with equal fury, it did not seem history would repeat itself.

"We have a problem." mused Kel'thuzad. "The Violet Citadel is warded against teleportation. They can teleport out. But we cannot get in the same way."

"I am well aware, Lich." said Mal'ganis. "The orcs are fighting well, but they cannot pierce the Alliance alone. Fortunately, I sense something which could be of use to us. Prisoners of the Kirin Tor."

He entered a courtyard where there was a cage. And in that cage, there were two sheep standing there. They eyed Mal'ganis and Kel'thuzad warily.

"Blue Dragons?" said Kel'thuzad. "You believe they would serve you?"

"I am convincing." Mal'ganis raised a hand.

The cage burst open. The enchantments on the sheep faded away. Wings grew from their backs, and they arose into the air in the form of two blue dragons. They looked down as awareness dawned.

"Yes! Free at last!" said one. "Thank you… you…"

He paused.

"Mal'ganis." said the other.

"The same. I remember you." said Mal'ganis. "You are that apprentice of Malygos who was always running his errands in Northrend. No matter, you serve me now."

"We will never serve-" one began.

Mal'ganis sent forth his will. Both dragons screeched and fell backward as he entered their minds. They fought against it, struggled against him, but he was the stronger.

"On the contrary. You will." he said. "You are. And that is why you are still alive. Pitiful dragon. You honestly think that because you are the chosen apprentice of a Dragon Aspect that it makes you my equal. I am a prodigy among the Nathrezim. Tichondrius himself fears my potential.

"And you will obey me.'"

"We… live… only… to serve…" wheezed one of the dragons with obvious pain.

"Now come Kel'thuzad." said Mal'ganis. "While the enchantment lasts."

They mounted the dragons and directed them over the battle lines. Several fires had started in the city and were spreading unchecked with all the fighting. Corpses were everywhere. Blood ran in rivers.

"Such devastation and horror." mused Mal'ganis. "There are some moments one should treasure."

"The orcs are having the worst of it." noted Kel'thuzad.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Mal'ganis.

"They do not have the same healing ability as the humans." said Kel'thuzad. "Nor do they possess the ability to replace their losses like we do with the scourge. I believe that within the day, perhaps two, they will be overwhelmed."

"Then we will withdraw them before that can happen." said Mal'ganis.

They landed near the Violet Citadel, and Mal'ganis dismounted quickly. As Kel'thuzad landed, the Dreadlord turned to the blue dragon male he had been riding, raised a claw and cast a spell.

The dragon screamed. It was a voice of pure, undiluted agony as his scales fell from his body. His skin began to peel off, as his muscles caught flame. The beast fell backward and within moments was reduced to a skeleton, which faded away to ash.

"Kalecgos!" screamed the other.

She broke free of Mal'ganis spell at that moment and flew away. A sound that might have been sobbing was coming from her as she fled. Mal'ganis raised a hand to fired a bolt, but she swerved away and avoided it.

"Come," said Kel'thuzad, "we have no further time."

"I suppose she isn't really worth it." mused Mal'ganis.

"Was that truly necessary?" asked the Lich.

"No." mused Mal'ganis. "I suppose I could have let them live. Allowed them to survive a few weeks longer in gratitude for services rendered. Yet what would the significance of that be? From the lowliest worm to the greatest of demons, all things will one day die.

"The flame of life must have fuel to continue. And there is not an infinite amount of that. All things die, and most things die miserably. Is it thus not better to die sooner, rather than late?"

"What?!" said Kel'thuzad. "I meant why did you destroy the body? Frostwyrms are valuable!"

"…Oh." said Mal'ganis.

"What did you mean with that pseudo-intellectual nihilistic speech?" asked Kel'thuzad.

"Nothing I suppose." said Mal'ganis. "Let us just focus on the task at hand." He paused. "You know where the Book of Medivh is stored?"

"Assuming they have not changed its location, yes." said Kel'thuzad.

"Then why did you ask Archimonde where to search for it?" asked Mal'ganis.

"One should never reveal everything one knows without reason." said Kel'thuzad. "Even to an ally."

"An attitude I can respect." said Mal'ganis. "You are a worthy subordinate Kel'thuzad. I am certain I can find a position for you when…" He trailed off.

"When Ner'zhul has been eliminated?" guessed Kel'thuzad.

"You are perceptive." mused Mal'ganis.

"I am well aware where the true power in the scourge lies, Dreadlord.'" said Kel'thuzad. "And I have already chosen my side."

"I am pleased by your cooperation." said Mal'ganis.

They opened one final door and entered into a long chamber filled with many books. And at the far end lay the Book of Medivh. It was plain to look at. Yet it radiated magical energy. Mal'ganis smiled as he approached it.

"And there it lies." he said. "Yet where is the resistance? Surely the humans would not leave such an artifact unguarded, would they?"

"They may not have known we sought it." mused Kel'thuzad. "And with the strength of our armies, the interior is likely without defense."

"Then let us take the book and leave." said Mal'ganis.

Kel'thuzad took the tome, and they teleported back. They found Jubei'thos watching as the fighting continued. His blade was notched, and he was sporting several more wounds. "Lord Mal'ganis! We have killed many humans, and their shield has been disrupted! If we send in the remaining undead, these pitiful wretches will be finished!"

"I'm afraid we will have to deny ourselves that pleasure." said Mal'ganis. "Draw back your men to the hills above. The time has come. Soon demons will reign from the sky and this wretched world will burn."

Jubei'thos nodded. "Pull back warriors! Let us save some for later!"

Later Mal'ganis watched as the orcs withdrew. A flight of Frostwyrms quickly headed off any attempts at pursuit by the human ground forces. After a brief dogfight with gryphon riders, the two sides separated to lick their wounds.

"Well, it is nearly done." mused Mal'ganis in satisfaction. "I must admit that Prince Arthas had me worried at several points. Yet soon Lord Archimonde will be brought into this world, and I shall claim my just reward."

He looked to Kel'thuzad. The Lich had been scanning through the book, but there was panic in his posture now. He was flipping through the pages of the book. What had gotten into him?

"…What is it?" asked Mal'ganis.

"It's ruined." said Kel'thuzad, shutting the book.

"What?" said Mal'ganis.

"Every page that had anything to do with summoning has been removed." said Kel'thuzad. "Someone went through this book with a knife and carved out everything which could be of any use."

"I… but… how…" Mal'ganis realized who was responsible. **"ARTHAS!"**

* * *

The waning sun painted the bloodstained city orange. Most of the fires had been put out by now. Clearing away the bodies took longer. Arthas had already given orders for them to be burned and little by little the pyres were starting.

"We took serious losses in the fight against the orcs milord." said Falric. "Much greater than against the undead. But we gave as good as we got and with the loss of their vanguard, I'd say Mal'ganis has been badly bloodied.

"He won't recover from this easily, sir."

"We won't give him the chance, Captain." said Arthas. "Antonidas what news?"

"I've received the reports from the Arcane Observatories." said Antonidas. "As you suspected the undead have sent necromancers to the graveyards of this land. Even as we speak, they are raising another army to replace their losses.

"It seems the Alliance owes you an apology Arthas. This is entirely our fault."

"Whose fault it is no longer relevant." said Arthas. "Vareesa you will take your forces and begin a hit and run an operation against the Syndicate. Try to slow down the creation of the army. Rhonin, send word to Lord Uther. Then assist Vereesa.

"Tell him I need the Silver Hand here."

"What of the Book of Medivh?" asked Sylvanas. "They escaped with it, didn't they?"

 **'ARTHAS!'** roared Mal'ganis voice from a distant hilltop.

The sound of his screamed echoed against the highlands and all the valleys. Arthas smiled for the first time in weeks. "I don't think we have anything to worry about."

It was the simple things in life one treasured. Revenge, even partial revenge, was one such simple thing.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Paybacks a bitch, isn't it?

Yes, I have a personal grudge against the character of Kalecgos. Thanks for asking. I never liked how he was declared Jaina's love interest out of the blue. I've been meaning to do something really horrible to the character for a while now. But I couldn't exactly have Noble Demon Arthas butcher him in Mercy of the Damned, so I had to wait.

Fortunately, Mal'ganis is evil with a capital E.


	9. Improvisation

**Chapter Nine: Improvisation**

It was raining.

The hut had been made from wood and thatch. Tirion Fordring was hunched over a small fire, warming his hands. His hammer was near at hand, a precaution he had to take these days. With all the undead rising from their graves things had only gotten more dangerous. If that were possible in the wilds.

Many beasts had been driven mad by the corruption gripping the land. Tirion had spent his days hunting those and making stew from them. It helped make things safer. Undead were not the only threat or even the greatest. With all the graves being dug up so that the bodies which once lay at peace within them could be burned.

"Tirion Fordring." said a voice.

Tirion gripped his hammer and turned around. He saw a man he had not seen in years. A man he'd once called a friend. Age had touched him. His face was more careworn. His beard was grayer as well. His eyes were older, but stern.

"Lord Uther." said Tirion. "What brings you to this desolate place."

"I had heard rumors of a hermit who heals the injured and on occasion defends the innocent from the undead." said Uther. "Since he wielded a hammer I thought I might see who it was."

"Well now you see me." said Tirion, in no mood. "Kindly leave me to my exile."

"I voted against expelling you from the paladin order Tirion." said Uther. "The decision was far from unanimous."

"I heard you expelled the one who cast the deciding vote some time idea." mused Tirion. "Ironic isn't it."

"Things have changed." said Uther in a tired voice. "So much I was once sure of has fallen to pieces. The dreams I once had have fallen into dust, and the more I grip them, the more they slip through my fingers."

"Is there a reason you are here Uther?" asked Tirion. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

"You were once one of the greatest paladins of the order Tirion." said Uther. "I marked you near my equal in connection to the light. Now you live as a hermit, heedless of the world decaying around your eyes. Have you no shame? Why do you remain here when the fate of the world is at stake."

"This world stripped me of my titles." said Tirion. "Destroyed my entire life. And for what? For freeing one innocent prisoner who was meant to be executed for his race? Even if I went to the aid of the Alliance, they wouldn't want it."

"I wasn't aware that you held your pride in greater regard than the lives of the innocent." said Uther.

Tirion looked at him in fury. "You dare? You are standing in front of me with your gilded hammer. Clad in shining, regarded as the greatest of all paladins far and wide and you talk to me of pride?"

"This armor is worn for the benefit of others. Not myself." said Uther. "I was a monk before I became a paladin. I gave up my family titles long before yours were stripped from you."

"You're a bad liar, Uther.' said Tirion. "You spoiled that boy. The Prince of Lordaeron never had to wash the sick, or deliver food to the needy as other paladin initiates did. Yet you were set to make him your heir for the sake of politics! Just as the order cast me out for the sake of politics! "When did the Silver Hand reinvent itself from stalwart defenders of the light? And what have they become instead? Ambitious knights under the personal command of an evil prince?"

"Evil?" asked Uther. "You go too far Tirion."

"He murdered an entire city for a passing strategic advantage!' roared Tirion. "And you let him do it! You could have stopped him! You could have relieved him of command! You could have put yourself between his forces and the citizens of Stratholme!

"But your position was too important to you! Instead, you washed your hands of Stratholme's fate. You went to King Terenas to get your precious position back!"

Uther remained silent for a long moment. At first, Tirion thought he would flare up, but he merely looked out to the miserable rainy weather. His horse was getting restless. Tirion almost believed he would leave, or perhaps that was wishful thinking. But Uther looked back.

"You're right. I have made many mistakes, and Stratholme was amongst them. If I truly believed that Stratholme could have been saved, I should have stopped the purge. No matter who was ordering it. If I believed it was beyond salvation, I should have led the charge myself." The old paladin sighed.

"My pride was too great. No matter what choice I made the image I had made of myself as a righteous warrior of justice would be tarnished. So I kept my pride. I did not make a choice. And the choice was made for me.

"I have received a summons from Prince Arthas. The final battle of this war is nigh. I am to reinforce him. I have come to offer you another chance to serve Lordaeron. Take up your hammer again. Join the warriors of Lordaeron and redeem yourself."

Tirion stared at him, hardly believing his ears. He looked around him, thinking of everything. When he had left, he had refused to beg or plead. And he wasn't about to now. "My crime was freeing a man who the Alliance would have murdered simply for his race. There is nothing to redeem.:

"I see." said Uther. He turned and walked out, before mounting his horse. "Very well then. hermit. Light protect you as you sit in your hovel and rot!" He spurred his horse away and rode off.

Tirion walked out of the house and watched him go. He had done nothing wrong, and he was convicted anyway. Yet there were many who had done nothing wrong who were suffering now. He looked at his hammer. It was not the one he had been given long ago. That had been stripped from him.

He had not abandoned the innocent. He had labored tirelessly as a hermit to keep the place in which he lived free of the undead. Many local villages praised his name. But now it seemed the darkness had passed over this place.

Instead, it was gathering anew at Dalaran.

Tirion went into his hut and began to pack.

* * *

It was past midday now. The sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon. Dalaran was a withered and broken city on the horizon. Mighty towers had been cast down. The streets were strewn with bodies and caked with blood. The fires had burned for hours, and yet there were still more corpses to burn. Yet no one was celebrating in the camp of Mal'ganis.

A dead silence had overtaken the forces of darkness on that hilltop. The orcs and undead arrayed themselves for war far below. And the Alliance closed in. Forces from all over were rallying around them. Mal'ganis did not like the odds they were now presented with.

They could hold them of course. They had to hold them. But what then?

"What do we do now?" asked Kel'thuzad.

"…I'm at a loss." admitted Mal'ganis "We accomplished our mission. It was the objective that failed." One did not accuse Archimonde of failure. "How did they know?"

"The Wizards of the Kirin Tor are not blind. Antonidas likely learned of our presence through scrying." sad Kel'thuzad "But Antonidas is like me. He would never knowingly destroy a tome of such knowledge."

"But Arthas is not like you." said Mal'ganis. "He learned the tome was what we were after and regarded it as a liability to be denied us at any means necessary."

"The pages may still be intact if we could find them…" said Kel'thuzad.

"Oh yes!" said Mal'ganis. "We'll just drop this entire war to go looking for some missing pages which may be ashes in the wind!"

And then Tichondrius appeared. He looked highly displeased. "What is the meaning of this Mal'ganis? Why have you not created the circle?"

"The book is worthless." said Mal'ganis.

"What?" said Tichondrius.

"Arthas somehow learned of our goal and destroyed it before we could take it." said Kel'thuzad.

Tichondrius blinked. For a moment he remained silent, calculating. "…This is most unfortunate. We are not in a strong position here, and it is too late in the plan to pull back. There are Wizards on one side, and Paladins on the other. If we fail here, then the campaign in Lordaeron is lost.'

"It hardly matters." said Mal'ganis. "Archimonde will have us butchered like cattle when he learns we've failed!'

"Calm yourself Mal'ganis." said Tichondrius. "We have not failed. Merely been set back. There are other means by which we may draw Archimonde into this world. And we were more than prepared for this eventuality."

"Archimonde himself stated that only the Book of Medivh had the necessary spells." said Mal'ganis. 'Would you presume to know better?"

"Of course not." said Tichondrius. "Yet there are other means of transcribing information than books. Unholy artifacts for instance." And he drew from under his cloak a bright red orc skull. It radiated unholy power. "Behold, the Skull of Gul'dan. If its power is absorbed then the one who wields it will gain all the knowledge and memories of the orc warlock. He was easily Medivh's equal and knew much about demons."

"Unbelievable." said Mal'ganis. "Why have we not used this earlier?"

"The Skull of Gul'dan can be used to corrupt vast stretches of land." said Tichondrius. "I had hoped to use it in the assault on Ashenvale. The Book of Medivh, in contrast, has no such uses. And we would have had to remove Dalaran from the playing field eventually anyway." He offered Kel'thuzad the skull. "Take it, Lich. Draw forth the energies of the skull."

"So be it." said Kel'thuzad.

The Lich took the skull in hand. He raised it to eye level and looked deeply into it. His eyes flared bright blue and then suddenly went red as unholy energy coursed into him. He rose skyward, magic flaring from his bones. "Yes, I can feel his knowledge," said Kel'thuzad, "his power. His understanding of the fel, of the darkness. His understanding of demons is immense! He knew more than anyone ever realized!"

There was a flash, and Kel'thuzad descended again. Now he radiated power, and Mal'ganis realized his strength was far greater than before. It was comparable even to Tichondrius. Yet the Lich remained silent.

"Well?" said Tichondrius.

"…" Kel'thuzad said nothing for a moment. "Gul'dan does not have the necessary information."

Mal'ganis opened his mouth, striving to speak. No words came out. Twice they had been foiled in a few minutes.

"You must be in error." said Tichondrius, clenching a fist. 'Gul'dan was a prodigy, taught by Kil'jaden the Deceiver himself."

"Yes but he never actually had to use the spell." said Kel'thuzad. "His most significant summoning was drawing Mannoroth and Kazzak to Draenor. That was the last time he summoned a demon of any significance. He spent over twenty years managing the Horde and fell out of practice during that time.

"He barely even fought during the Second War.

"The rituals necessary to bring Archimonde into the world are complex. He had no reason to remember them."

Silence once again engulfed them. Tichondrius said nothing. He clenched and unclenched his claws and licked his lips nervously. The red-clad dreadlord glanced to the amassing armies of the Alliance. Armies which were almost ready to attack.

"What now, Lord Tichondrius?" asked Mal'ganis.

Tichondrius raised a hand. "Give me a moment! Let me think!" He paced back and forth.

A horn call signaled the Alliance forces to close the noose around them. Mal'ganis had nothing. What could they do now? They couldn't bring in Archimonde, but perhaps they could bring something else in.

"Can you summon Mannoroth?" asked Tichondrius suddenly.

Mal'ganis looked to him as he realized Tichondrius' plan. "That might work. Answer him, Lich."

"Possibly. Gul'dan has a clearer memory of the spell, though some aspects of the ritual have faded." said Kel'thuzad. "Fortunately I have been studying the tomes of demon lore provided by Jubei'thos. I believe I can piece together the details. But it will take me some time to formulate such a ritual, and it will be risky. These are matters best done with time to spare."

"What time do you think we have?" said Tichondrius. "The enemy closes in around us. Mal'ganis you must hold the Alliance for as long as possible. Kel'thuzad will perfect the ritual. Once that is done we will bring Mannaroth into the world. Then we will see about summoning Archimonde's other lieutenants.

"The work Medivh began will be finished. There can be no failure today."

"And what will you do, Tichondrius?" asked Mal'ganis.

"I am going to gather reinforcements.' said Tichondrius.

And he was gone in a rising of green mist. Typical really.

A female cultist arrived and bowed before them. "Lord Mal'ganis the human Prince is here under a flag of parley."

"What are you waiting for?!" cried Jubei'thos, who had been meditating until now. "We do not negotiate with humans! Kill him!"

"Hold fool." said Mal'ganis. "This meeting will buy us time at least. I will speak with the Prince myself."

* * *

The white flag of parley may have been raised high, but Arthas was not defenseless. He had a heavy guard of knights with him. Sylvanas was there as well and her rangers. The beautiful elf woman looked at Arthas as they waited.

"Do you think the demon will come forth?" asked Sylvanas.

"I'm not sure." admitted Arthas. "He hasn't passed up a chance to gloat so far."

There was silence between them for a time. Finally, the elf woman looked up. "You are good."

"Hmm." said Arthas.

"I meant to say that you are a very able commander.' said Sylvanas. "I doubt even among the elves we could find someone willing to go as far as you have to win."

"What I have done I have done because it was necessary." said Arthas. "But your compliment is noted."

At that moment Mal'ganis descended from the hill. He marched out with a guard of abominations. Approaching him, Arthas set one hand to his sword on reflex as the Dreadlord drew very near indeed.

"So young Prince, we meet again." said Mal'ganis. "Have you come to bear witness to my final victory?" His voice was confident, but in place of the arrogance, it had once held there was now hatred and rage.

"No, Mal'ganis, I have come to enact your final defeat." said Arthas. He felt cold. Cold but pure.

"And yet you are already defeated yourself." said Mal'ganis. "The young sorceress you so prized has fled over the sea. The paladins have disowned you. Your friends and family have left or become your enemies. You are alone, and your Kingdom are dust in the wind. What is there that you value which I have not destroyed?"

"And what of your Kingdom?" asked Arthas. "Your citadels in Northrend are in ashes. Your allies crushed. Your minions dwindling. And you are out of time. Your prize, the Book of Medivh, is useless to you.

"Your superiors will not be pleased."

"Then it appears that we both have little left to lose." murmured Mal'gais. "Let us see who will lose all. You need not fear. We will face each other on the battlefield at long last. And you will die by my hand. For I am ready for our meeting."

The two forces turned and marched away to their hosts. As they walked Arthas sighed. "We haven't won yet."

"What do you mean?" asked Sylvanas.

"I was hoping that he would be making a last stand." said Arthas. "If he was we could have taken our time with the assault. However since he felt the need the gloat, I'm certain he has something else planned. We'll have to take an aggressive stance."

"If it helps," said Sylvanas, "I think he hates you almost as much as you hate him."

"It does, actually." said Arthas, feeling a bit more cheerful. "Ready the men! We attack at once!"

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

The mark of a magnificent bastard is not their plans any failures. That is just the plot conspiring to make them win. Rather what makes a magnificent bastard is their ability to improvise and make a new plan that works on the fly. Mal'ganis has been doing this the entire fanfic.

The best part of this fanfic so far has been seeing the Dreadlords having to improvise. They change things, again and again, to make their plans work. And little by little the thread unravels despite their efforts.


	10. Under a Burning Sky

**Chapter Ten: Under a Burning Sky**

The city of Stratholme was no more. Months ago every living creature within it had been transformed into undead or put to the sword. For a long time, the surrounding villages had labored to burn the corpses. Yet it had been in vain. After Prince Arthas had left for Northrend Baron Rivendare had come. He had led the acolytes to drive off the villagers.

As the fighting had raged throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, the Death Knight had work of his own. He had recreated Stratholme. Now the gates stood again but were emblazoned with skulls. The streets were abuzz with activity. But it was the shambling of undead monstrosities. Laughter and speech had turned to the moans of the damned.

It was a success story. The Nathrezim Balnazzar had been quick to establish himself within the place. Now he was looking across a map of the world. His attention was called up as a green mist appeared, and Lord Tichondrius emerged.

"Balnazzar I trust all is well." said Tichondrius.

"All goes as planned, Brother." said Balnazzar. "The troops you called for from Northrend are approaching as we speak. I put Detheroc in command of them. They will be able to purge the humans soon."

"Good." said Tichondrius. "Their first target will be Dalaran. Mal'ganis is under heavy assault even as we speak. I fear that if he is overwhelmed our plans will be badly set back. I must go now."

"Tichondrius, there is one other thing." said Balnazzar.

"What is it?" asked Tichondrius.

"When we had our forces called away the living denizens of Northrend had begun a new offensive." said Balnazzar. "The Lich King was hard pressed to hold them back."

"Much must be risked in war." said Tichondrius. "If our venture succeeds the Lich King will be rendered expendable. If it fails, then the scourge may not be of much use in the first place. I am badly discontent with their showing thus far."

"I understand." said Balnazzar. "We shall reinforce Mal'ganis at once."

* * *

Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of the Alliance Navy had kept a close watch on Northrend. By all accounts, he had heard it had been the source of the undead scourge. It did not seem impossible that a fleet of undead might well be dispatched to Lordaeron.

Thus he'd kept the bulk of his fleets near that cursed land. And it proved a wise choice. Though the frozen air and miserable weather grated on him, he was willing to endure it. For the Alliance, his son had died for.

Through his telescope, he could see a great fleet of undead battleships. Their decks were clustered with thousands of corpses. Their sails were black, and their prows were decorated with skulls.

"How many?" asked a soldier.

"More than three times our number." said Daelin. "Stand by to attack."

"Admiral, is that wise?" asked the soldier.

"Lordaeron has suffered enough, and the Silver Hand is hard pressed." said Daelin. "We will not allow the undead to land and reinforce the enemy." He smiled. "Fortunately, they have no real skill at sea battle. Their fleet is very close together and their ships badly maintained. Nor are they aware of us.

"We'll use a fireship."

It was mid-morning. The sun shone down on decks trod by walking corpses.

* * *

Detheroc was not satisfied with his assignment. He and Mal'ganis had both competed to be named the commander of the invasion of Lordaeron. It had been Mal'ganis who was chosen. Almost at once his opponent had made a mess of things. And now the Nathrezim were having to compensate for his mistakes.

Now Detheroc was given the task of ferrying these rotting undead across the sea. It was dull indeed.

"Lord Detheroc there is a small fleet approaching the fleet from the south." said a cultist. "They mean to cut us off."

Detheroc looked up. On the horizon, he could see a fleet of ships perhaps a third of his own force. He was pleased at the chance to do battle. But it would prove a simple matter. "An act of desperation no doubt. We outnumber them by a vast amount. They will be easily disposed of.

"Yet we should not sink their vessels. Their corpses will swell our own.

"Press forward and prepare to board them."

As the fleet leaped forward, Detheroc felt a smile come to his face. Soon battle would be joined, and he would have his chance. Yet it was unbearably slow. The wind was blowing north toward them, and the ships were slowed while the enemy rushed toward them.

The fool humans had sent a force of three ships far ahead of the others. There was hardly anyone on them either. This would be a simple matter.

Then the ropes and deck of the ships burst into flame. Within moments the vessels were consumed in fire. The crews were fleeing onto longboats. What were they playing at?

The cold north-blowing wind sent many sparks towards them. A vessel to Detheroc's left had its sails catch fire. Horror dawned on him as he realized the purpose of the ships. "Scatter the fleet! Scatter the fleet quickly!"

It was too late. The flaming set fire to everything around them. And as the flames licked up on those sparks flew to other vessels. Detheroc put the full force of his will into his warriors. He drove them and other crews to break free of the inferno.

One ship after another leaped into flame.

Terrible minutes passed as Detheroc did all he could to save what remained of his ship. By the time he got his ships out nearly half the fleet was ablaze. One by one they were falling into the deep, burning to the waterline.

The rest had a new enemy. Detheroc was furious. These humans had humiliated him, but he would pay them back soon enough. Yet before he could even organize the remaining enemy vessels had formed into a line. They sailed past them and then there were many flashes and noises like thunder. The cannons had opened fire.

Detheroc strove with his will to organize his ships. They returned fire as best they could as cannonballs smashed through his ships. He saw a vessel to his right sink beneath the barrage. He raised his hand and sent forth a wave of dark magic against the enemy.

A canon flashed, and Detheroc felt something strike him in the face. Everything went black.

Thirty minutes later Daelin Proudmoore smiled as the enemy fleet was shattered. It was now just to driftwood. The undead tried to swim, but could not stay afloat and sank into the sea. Those that could not sink were shot dead in the water by his marines.

"It is done then." said Daelin. "It will be a long while before they send any more undead across the channel."

All of a sudden a shadow fell over the sun. Daelin looked up and saw with horror dragons. Dozens and dozens of skeletal dragons. And with them were hundreds of gargoyles They flew on ragged wings toward Lordaeron. Memories shot through him. Memories of his son's ship being consumed by a red dragon.

Back then they had been taken off guard. They'd had no idea of how to fight dragons. But in the fires of the Second War, they had learned much of how to kill dragons.

"Ready the fleet!" cried Daelin. "Move away from here! Prepare to open fire!"

"We cannot kill all those!" said a soldier.

"No we can't." said Daelin. "But we can thin their numbers and draw a few of them from the mainland."

The cannons were ramped to higher altitudes and opened fire. The canons shot into the midsts of the dragons. Several of them were blasted down, their wings or heads blown off and they fell downwards into the ocean.

The beasts roared and charged at Daelin. The gargoyles surged to attack the soldiers. The dragon's icy breathe poured down onto the closest of the vessels, killing many. A response of gunfire was the reply.

The men of Kul'tiras made their stand.

The villager gasped in agony as the lifeforce was pulled from his still screaming flesh. Tichondrius devoured the energy of his soul with relish. He'd been under a great deal of stress these past few weeks, and now he had a moment to relax. The agony of his victim soothed his fractured nerves.

Then he sensed Balnazzar appearing behind him. He finished his meal and turned to face the other demonlord. He did not look good. "Balnazzar what is the meaning of this?"

"Lord Tichondrius…" Balnazzar paused. "Detheroc is dead. The humans of Kul'tiras intercepted his fleet and destroyed it completely."

Tichondrius stopped. "What of the flyers?"

"They are engaged in battle with the humans now." said Balnazzar. "They appear to be evenly matched."

"Is there no end to the setbacks?" asked Tichondrius. "So be it. I will find reinforcements in another way."

Mal'ganis surveyed his warriors. Orc and undead stood side by side, ready to face the coming enemy. And they would have to face it alone. Word had come in from the Syndicate. Aiden Pernolde was having great difficulty raising more corpses from the graveyards. Arthas had foreseen his efforts and dispatched troops to stop him.

"Warriors of the Blackrock!" cried Mal'ganis. "Lord Archimonde has looked upon your might with pride! Thus he has ordained that Lord Mannoroth will be the first to set foot upon this world! We need only hold our ground until he arrives!

"The undead stand with you! And more come to assist! Show these humans the folly of opposing the Legion!"

 **"FOR THE HORDE!"** they cried as one.

It wasn't in Mal'ganis nature to be so boisterous. But he had a part to play. Motivating the Blackrock Clan was important. He reappeared next to Kel'thuzad who appeared to be meditating. "Thank Sageras they are so easily motivated."

"It is one of their virtues." said Kel'thuzad.

"You can do it, can you not?" said Mal'ganis.

"Yes. I have pieced together the ritual." said Kel'thuzad. "I will begin the summoning of Lord Mannaroth at once. It is fortunate that he is not as powerful as Archimonde. It shouldn't take nearly as long."

* * *

The army was assembled. The hosts of the Blackrock Clan had arrayed themselves on the hills above. Towers and barricades had been erected during the fighting in Dalaran. They were manned by many orc peons who carried short bows. A field of goblin landmines guarded was way in.

From atop his horse, Arthas motioned with his sword.

The assault began. At the front were a force of steam tanks. The heavy tanks ran over the mines, triggering the mines. Several of the steam tanks broke down and faltered from the explosions. The others pressed on and drew the arrows of the peons. Then they reached the barricades and fired.

The barricade was scattered with a crash.

Arthas reared his horse and motioned forward with his blade. "To battle!"

The Knights of the Alliance charged. Arthas was at their head, sword gleaming. Behind him came the riflemen and rangers. The rangers shot down many peons with arrows. The riflemen pressed on to get closer. As the charge approached the breach many of the peons fell dead. Others loosed their arrows and hit home. Then Arthas was through. He cleaved down an orc with his sword then ducked under the blow of an ogre. He drove his sword up high into the heart of the monster. The knights poured in behind him, breaking the defenders. Behind them came footmen and priests and mages.

Then Jubei'thos came. He was wielding his blade like a hurricane. A dozen men were slain in moments. On he came, and Arthas threw himself from his saddle in time to avoid the fate of his horse, which was cleaved in two. Yet another horse cut from under him. At least this time it had been in battle. Poor Invincible.

Rising he crossed blades with the orc chieftain as the elite guard of the orcs rushed to battle. And with them came the undead. The assault was stalemated. Arthas turned Jubei'thos' blade, but the orc drew back his hands and parried the stroke. The two of them fought back and forth, their blades going faster and faster.

It was all Arthas could do to keep up with the berserker.

Finally, they separated. Jubei'thos was smiling even as he breathed heavily. "You are formidable human. Never before have I fought so formidable an enemy."

"Nor I." admitted Arthas. He'd never been matched blade to blade. Except perhaps by Varian.

Arthas said nothing. He began to circle the orc, who circled in turn. Around them, the battle was raging. A gyrocoptor was torn from the sky and sent careening down to explode on the ground. Mortar fire blasted a tower to pieces. Orc fought human in a vicious melee on the ground. And above gryphon riders hurled their hammers.

Jubei'thos lunged, and Arthas parried the strike. Yet the orc attacked with renewed fury. He was moving so quickly that there seemed to be four of him slashing at him. Arthas' strokes cut nothing but air, and he felt his enemy's blade slash him across the shoulder, the leg and the side. If not for his armor he would be dead. Again and again, he struck, and Arthas found he could hardly keep up.

In an act of desperation, Arthas dropped to one knee and stabbed low.

Jubei'thos was not fast enough, and the blade was driven into his stomach. He roared in pain, grabbed Arthas' hand and raised his blade to strike. But as the blade fell Arthas caught his wrist and twisted the sword in his enemy. Jubei'thos gasped, and Arthas punched him in the face. Then he drew out the blade before slashing his throat.

The Chieftain of the Blackrock Clan died as he would have wanted. Surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and soaked in blood. The light would judge him as it judged all things.

Around him, Arthas could see the battle was turning against the Blackrock Clan. Orc and undead alike could not withstand the army now assembled against them. Even more, troops were coming as they spoke. The front was passing beyond him.

A soldier approached. "Milord, I bring word from Vereesa and Rhonin. They have destroyed the undead in their region and routed the remnants of the Syndicate."

"Excellent." said Arthas. "Go to them and tell them to bring their forces to aid in the siege. We need only keep up the pressure, and soon victory will be ours…"

Then he sensed something. It was a strange change in the air. Something around him had become sinister, and he looked up to the hilltop. There was Kel'thuzad, still channeling. Then the sky began to change. It warped and became red. The clouds swirled around the Lich as all light seemed to be filtered into something unholy.

"Come forth, Mighty Mannoroth!" proclaimed Kel'thuzad. "Your humble servants await your return!"

A portal of violet energy opened and out of it lumbered a monster nearly four meters tall. It was like a centaur, but there was nothing human about its upper body. It had skin like that of a lizard and two great wings like those of a dragon. In his hands was gripped a massive double-bladed spear which he spun around.

 **"Come forth, warriors of the Legion!"** cried the demon, raising the weapon aloft. **"Enter this world in the name of Mannoroth! Burn! Kill! Grind all who would oppose us to dust! Go forth and let oblivion be the fate of all who live!"**

The sky began to burn. Out of the clouds fell meteors that crashed among the forces of the Alliance. The meteors then took on the shape of a vaguely humanoid creature. Out of the portal from which Mannaroth had come now came demons. Hundred and hundreds of demons.

Some were huge, ogre-like brutes with huge swords. Others were smaller, lesser versions of Mannoroth. There were also many smaller creatures, imps who hurled fireballs. Still, others were like dogs, but with spikes on their backs and far large than even the largest wolf. And at their head came Mannaroth.

The demon struck his weapon against the ground, and a huge trench was delved in the ground. Human and undead alike were torn to shreds by the shock of it. The demons rushed over their corpses to fall upon the defenders.

The tide was turning. Arthas knew the forces he had here would not be enough. "Pull back!" he cried. "Pull back to Dalaran! We'll make our stand there!"

They stood now upon the brink of destruction. For the Reign of Chaos had come at last.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

This chapter took longer than the others for several reasons. First I had to work out exactly what was going to happen during the battle. I was also emotionally spent and had to rest a bit.


	11. Rally

**Chapter 11: Rally**

The sunset fell shaded the world in an unnatural red. His horse dead, Arthas stepped aside from a fel hound's lunged and struck off its head. He impaled another through the throat as it came and threw it aside. A doomguard came at him with a blade that fell.

He stepped aside and brought his sword down twice on his enemy's hand. It broke off, and the blood poured out black and smoking. The creature roared and fell to one knee, clutching its stump. Arthas slashed their throat.

He looked as the desperate retreated continued. Captain Falric and his men held the line. Their shields locked together created an immovable rock. The tides of the demons broke against it. And while they fought the rest of the army pulled back.

Arthas raised his sword to restore the strength of his men. Sweat soaked his brow. His limbs were shaking as he leaped away from a stroke by one of the rock giants. Bringing down his sword on the rock he struck. The rock cracked, and he had to dodge again before striking again and again.

"Prince Arthas," said Falric, "the Alliance is away! Now how are we to save ourselves?!"

At that moment Mannoroth entered the fray. He lumbered forward like some unstoppable force. Raising his glaive, he sent waves of fire falling upon the lines to kill many. Then he struck the troops, slashing with a berserk fury that cut down dozens of men in seconds. The shield wall buckled and broke. The defense was scattered. The demons went in for the kill.

Arthas rushed for Mannoroth to try to slow the beast's approach. "Pull back Falric! Flee for the lines! I will hold them!"

Then a vast rain of sharp hail descended from the skies above to land among the demons. Within mere moments nearly a hundred of the creatures were killed and more followed soon. Dozens of water elementals arose. The huge and unstoppable creatures rushed into battle to put a halt to the assault. Waves of water splashed against them, hurting many badly.

 _ **"Pitiful wretches!"**_ snarled Mannoroth. " _ **Crush the elementals then continue the attack!"**_

And he lumbered back to cleave through two elementals with one stroke. Waves of fire reduced several others to steam. The doomguards unleashed their own flame. Already the new defense was falling apart.

But the retreat was already complete.

Antonidas, Rhonin, and Krasus were now among them. Casting their spell the remaining rearguard was surrounded in light. Then they were behind the walls of Dalaran in the empty streets. The masonry here was cracked and broken.

"Where the hell were you?" asked Arthas.

"Gathering reinforcements." said Rhonin. "Gratitude does not come easily to you, does it, Prince of Lordaeron?"

"Not really." admitted Arthas.

Valeera, Sylvanas, and their forces were now rushing to the walls. Archers were assembling side by side with riflemen and firing at the enemy. Arthas made his way up to the top of the wall and looked out across the fields. The fields. Once they had been pristine and green with beautiful trees and rolling hills above, now those same hills were blighted with unholy magics. Many of the trees were dead or dying.

Armies had trampled the grass to death, leaving only mud in their wake. Now as another army charged across it mortars delved craters in the ground where they landed. Corpse after corpse fell upon the land. Fires had begun in several places from meteors. Already the fires had spread to nearby trees. What had once been a place of life and beauty was now a blighted and ruined wasteland.

All of Lordaeron had become like this. Or so it seemed. Arthas felt it in his very soul.

But he would fight on. He would defend his people. No matter the cost.

"Falric," called Arthas down, "assemble a force by the gates! The enemy must not be allowed to get through the chokepoint!"

He looked back. Mannoroth was coming again at the head. The orcs and undead were behind him along with the tide of demons. The demon roared a battle cry that echoed throughout the hills, and all his warriors did the same. Heedless of their casualties, the unholy armies charged onward through the mud.

He walked back down to where Antonidas was speaking with several servants.

"-unleash the flesh golems." said Antonidas.

"Flesh golems?" asked Arthas.

"Creations of ours." said Antonidas. "Purely from cows of course."

From the broken gates of Dalaran emerged a company of hulking monstrosities. They were vaguely humanoid and sewn from the tanned hides of many creatures. They did not stink like abomination, and there was no blood or guts. But they were disturbing.

Arthas couldn't argue with their result, however, which was to lumber into the midsts of the Legion assault. They certainly broke its momentum. A golem crushed two doomguards to death, only to be cleaved in twain by a violet Pit Lord. Undead swarmed over a golem, tearing it apart though it smashed dozens to pieces. A doomguard cleaved another in half. Fel hounds were crushed underfoot, only for that same foot to be bitten off by their pack.

And all the while the ranged forces of the Alliance shredded the demonic legions. Some of the enemies rushed at the line in a scattered and disordered mess. They were cut to pieces by the shield wall if they were not gunned down.

Then Mannoroth entered the fray again. He tore through the flesh golems like a hot knife through butter. He laughed as he cut through them by the dozens. Then he led his forces onward against the defenders.

"Hold your ground!" cried Arthas. "Uther will come!"

Just like he had before at Hearthglen. Arthas would not fail this time. He would not be overwhelmed yet again. He rushed to the gate and took his place beside the other defenders of Lordaeron.

* * *

Mal'ganis observed as the armies of the Legion rushed the gate. Waves of fire and ice consumed many. Barrages of gunfire and rains of arrow felled many more. But necromancers raised those who fell as undead and the assault pressed onward.

Mannoroth remained behind by some ways. Perhaps wisely. Mighty Mannoroth may have been, but with enough firepower, anyone could be killed. He would not enter the fray directly until a breach was made and taken.

Then the melee was joined. Prince Arthas was at the front of the Alliance, hewing down his enemies left and right. The men of Lordaeron took heart at their leader's presence and fought all the harder. Thus it began. And thus it would continue.

"As expected." said Mal'ganis. "Our enemy is nothing if not resourceful. Yet events are turning to our favor.' He turned to Kel'thuzad 'Kel'thuzad you will now begin summoning a different demon. No doubt you have heard of Lord Kazzak."

"The Captain of the Doomguards." said Kel'thuzad. "He pierced the gates of Stormwind when the Horde failed. He personally destroyed the palace. I am told he nearly killed Prince Varian and Anduin Lothar. Without the latter, this world may have been put to the flame long ago."

"Yes." said Mal'ganis. "Gul'dan summoned him and his warriors to finish the task the Horde was assigned. It was they who laid waste to Stonewind Keep. Not Doomhammer. He merely stepped into Kazzak's shadow, so to speak.

"Do you believe you can summon him?"

"Of course." said Kel'thuzad. "The memory is far more recent. Though a more permanent incantation may take some doing. I shall begin at once."

"Excellent." said Mal'ganis. "Now with the Blackrock Clan distracted I shall see to reaping this most recent harvest."

As Kel'thuzad began his work, the young Dreadlord made his way to the base of the hill. Here the fighting had been thinking, and vast numbers of corpses lay around. Perfect for creating a new army with which to destroy his enemies. His necromancers had already begun the process.

Mal'ganis wandered among the bodies, and then he came upon Jubei'thos. The orc chieftain lay dead on the ground, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies. He had fought well. Well enough to warrant a place after death.

Mal'ganis raised a hand and cast a spell. Jubei'thos' body arose into the air. His eyes flared with blue flame. His skin became pale and his wounds healed. The orc looked at himself. "What is… I live…" He did not sound happy.

"Not quite." said Mal'ganis. "What you exist in now is a dark mirror of life."

"What is the meaning of this demon?!" cried Jubei'thos. "I was slain in battle! My remains should not have been despoiled!"

"Your people failed in their task, Blademaster." said Mal'ganis. "It is your lot to serve and not to question. And you will serve. No longer as a Blademaster of the Blackrock Clan, but as a Death Knight of the Scourge. Your soul belongs to the Dark Lord."

Jubei'thos clutched his head. Struggling against the will of the Lich King. Then he looked up. "Arg… I… will obey."

"Excellent." said Mal'ganis. "Your fallen warriors are being resurrected to their new roles. Now they will serve in another way." He motioned to the army of rotting corpses which even now was arising around them. "You will take these and go north. I have need of a rear guard to ensure that the Silver Hand cannot come to their aid."

Jubei'thos strained. "…As you command, Dreadlord."

* * *

Rhonin was out of mana. He'd cast more spells today than he had in the entire rest of his life. And to less effect. The archers had shot every arrow they had. The riflemen were running out of bullets. The demons continued to stream out of the portal. There seemed to be more of them on the field than there had been enemies at the beginning of the battle. The undead they had faced at first had by now been completely wiped out and then replaced. Most of the blackrock orcs who had fought so valiantly were dead. Their bodies had joined the undead in their charge.

Their lives had been thrown away.

Then Rhonin sensed something. Looking to the hilltop, he saw Kel'thuzad. The Lich was casting another spell. One very similar to the one he had cast before. Rhonin looked to Krasus. "They have begun another summoning, Lord Krasus."

"Why should they want to create another portal when they have one there?" asked Sylvanas.

"That portal is not strong enough to bring Archimonde into the world." mused Krasus. "But if they had the ability to create one that could they would have summoned that instead. What are they thinking?"

"The barrier between the worlds must be in tatters then." mused Valeera.

"In tatters…" mused Krasus. "Of course! They are trying to weaken the barrier between the worlds. Demons are naturally kept out of this world by limits imposed by the will of the titans. Only the efforts of mortals can bring them through. But if those barriers are damaged badly enough, then demons might slip through.

"If that happens Archimonde could use sheer power to force an entry."

"Clever." said Antonidas. "We'll have to disrupt that portal."

"How can we do that?" asked Rhonin. "We can scarcely keep the demons at bay."

"Uther should arrive soon." mused Antonidas. "But that may not be enough."

Sylvanas looked up to the hill. "The hilltop is practically unguarded."

"Mannoroth is not one to have much regard for defense." mused Rhonin. "If a small elite force were to be sent against Kel'thuzad now we might overwhelm him. We could stop the summoning."

"Assuming a contingent of demons didn't walk through while we were trying." noted Sylvanas.

"Ah yes. " said Rhonin. "Assuming that obviously."

"Young Rhonin may be right." said Antonidas. "A strike force might be our only hope."

"Our only hope of stopping the summoning, perhaps." said Krasus. "But perhaps it is not within our destiny to stop it."

"What do you mean Krasus?" asked Antonidas.

"You've read the prophecies as well as I have Antonidas." said Krasus. "These events were foretold when the world was young. Maybe we should focus on saving everyone we can, rather than trying to slay an enemy who cannot be killed."

"Archmage Krasus you have never said anything that became you less." said Antonidas. "I do not deny there is little if any, hope in this battle. But to fleeing over the sea would be sheer murder for those who could not follow. There are not enough ships in all the world to save those who now dwell in Lordaeron.

"No, this chance, desperate though it may be, must be taken. I will go myself. Kel'thuzad was my friend. We had all the same interests. I saw what he was becoming, and I did not stop him. Well, it is now my appointed task to stop him now. Or die trying.

"And I don't doubt we will all die. Nothing seems to have gone well in this war. But we may at least die well."

Krasus looked down. At that moment the elf looked far older than he ever had. Actually, he didn't look like an elf at all. It was as if he was just a mask for something else. Something filled with unbearable shame. "…You shame me, Lord Antonidas. I will go with you and do what I may to help you."

"I'll go as well." said Rhonin.

"No Rhonin you must remain behind." said Antonidas, "At least one of the six must remain here. Someone must rule Dalaran and lead the people out if all goes badly. Tell Prince Arthas of this and take your spellcasters to him."

"As you wish, Lord Antonidas." said Rhonin.

Below the gates of Dalaran, the turf was soaked with blood. Above the sky was aflame with unholy magic. And far in the distance, the sun set behind the hills to bring on an unholy and violent night.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

For those who don't know, Kazzak being the one who sacked Stormwind is a reference. Specifically to Warcraft: Orcs and Humans. See the final two missions of that game for both orc and human have a single winning strategy. You build eight Conjurers/Warlocks and have them start summoning Water Elementals/Demons. You then send them to the enemy base and keep summoning them until it is destroyed.

Demons look a lot like Doomguards. Kazzak seemed a shoo-in for the role.

Thus in this continuity, Gul'dan summoned an army of Doomguards. Keep in mind I'm sticking to game canon. So Llane was assassinated after the destruction of the Temple of the Damned. Not during the Siege of Stonewind Keep.


	12. Falling Apart

**Chapter Twelve: Falling Apart**

The night had come, and there was not a star in the sky. It was cold, terribly cold, but Jubei'thos could hardly feel it. His veins were filled with unholy magic instead of blood. He was undead. A fate reserved for those warriors of the Horde who had failed or been judged as cowards or traitors.

He had not failed nor run nor betrayed the Legion. He and his warriors had remained faithful and continued their war for years and years.

Waiting for the day of reckoning.

Now all of those who Jubei'thos had brought with him were dead. Their lives were thrown aside like canon fodder. Their bodies were being raised along with their enemies. He alone of those raised had kept his sanity. A reward of sorts, or so the Dreadlord seemed to regard it.

Now he stood on the road waiting. For Uther Lightbringer. Instead, he appeared. He was a thin and pale man, but he went clad in black armor inlaid with skulls. He was not undead; there was no stench of death about him. But he radiated unholy energy and held a rune sword in one hand. He was leading a skeletal horse behind him.

He waved easily and bowed. 'Greetings to you, Chieftain Jubei'thos, loyal servant of the True Horde.'

'The Horde?' asked Jubei'thos. 'The Horde is dead. We are but a shadow of what it once was. All that remains now are pretenders.'

'It has changed, not died.' said the man. 'I am called Rivendare. I was once a knight of the Alliance. I fought in the Second War against your people. Now I am a Death Knight of the Scourge. Strange now, that we should find ourselves servants of the same power.'

'Servants?' asked Jubei'thos. 'Fool! You mean slaves! Slaves to be sent and called for at all! Slaves to be sacrificed and cast aside without regard! You humans may be content with such a fate, but we of the Horde would rather die!'

'Would you?' asked Rivendare. 'Believe it or not, I shared your apprehensions. Undeath has drawbacks. We can no longer enjoy the taste of food or drink, for instance. But the love of battle? The joy of combat? That highest honor is still afforded us.

And old age? That is a thing of the past. You need not ever fear that you will ever grow weak from the passage of time. Rather you shall live forever young and strong, so long as your blade goes unbroken.'

'It will be broken soon.' said Jubei'thos bitterly. 'When my Father was on his deathbed he warned me never to face the Lightbringer. None may stand against him and live.'

'Ah so the Dreadlord has sent you to a second death.' said Rivendare, a smile on his face.

'What amuses you, Death Knight?' asked Jubei'thos. 'Speak quickly, or I shall cut your head from your neck!'

'It is nothing.' said Rivendare. 'To be sent to die by Dreadlords is a common story among the scourge. For you see, they are not the leaders of the scourge, but the jailors.'

'The scourge is but part of the Legion.' said Jubei'thos.

'For the moment.' said Rivendare. 'For the moment. That may change soon. Might I give you some advice?'

'You may.' said Jubei'thos. 'Though I tire of your company.'

'Uther Lightbringer approaches even now.' said Rivendare. 'There is none among all the hosts of the scourge who could stand against him alone and live. And very few among the Legion who could do the same. And he is not alone. He comes with a great host of knights and men at arms. Greater even than these you have here.

'You might delay him for a time. But you will surely die.'

'I know this already.' said Jubei'thos. 'What is your counsel?'

'It will be best for the Legion for you to die here against the paladin.' said Rivendare. 'But not best for the scourge. And not, I deem, best for the Blackrock Clan. You have some warriors left, and I deem they would sorely miss your leadership.'

'Just what are you suggesting, Death Knight?' asked Jubei'thos.

'Leave.' said Rivendare. 'Let Mannoroth fight his own battles. As they have abandoned you, abandon them. In so doing you shall win a great opportunity. For Uther has rallied a great part of the fighting men in this region. While he is busy doing battle with the Legion, you may freely raid and plunder many villages.

'Raising the bodies of your victims into undeath, you may assemble a mighty host. Not mighty enough to stand against the Lightbringer in open battle. But we still have some strong places in this land. Stratholme for instance. Or you may return home and make your domain into a mighty stronghold of both the Scourge and the True Horde.'

'And when the Legion learns of this I will be destroyed and all my comrades with me.' noted Jubei'thos.

'Yet if you stay here you will surely die.' noted Rivendare. 'And the Legion's victory is not certain. The Lich King sees all. He knows well that what happens in Dalaran tonight shall determine the course this war is to take. And he intends to see to it that the course turns against Lord Archimonde.'

'Who is your master?' asked Jubei'thos. 'This Dark Lord to whom Mal'ganis refers?'

'He is Ner'zhul.' said Rivendare. 'I think you know the name.'

Ner'zhul. Jubei'thos did know it. Once the Leader of the Horde who was displaced by Gul'dan. News had come from Draenor that he had reassumed his position before the end of that world.

'I do.' said Jubei'thos. 'And I will do as you suggest. Come, my warriors! We go into the highlands to await our moment!'

* * *

It was the main ogre settlement in Lordaeron. A collection of large huts, large enough for the huge creatures to dwell in. There was no real adornment. Ogres did not decorate or make beautiful things. The brutes had been dismissed as too unintelligent to serve the Legion. Instead, they had chosen the orcs.

However, in times of need, anyone could serve the Nathrezim. They only needed to be motivated. Thus it was that Tichondrius had convinced the ogres to grant him an audience. Their leader was a chieftain who had the loyalty of many ogre villages.

And he was huge. Nearly fourteen feet high, he was clad in black armor. In his hand was a huge club capped with iron. On his arm was a vast shield. A lesser ogre approached. 'Big Man Mug'thol! There leader of weak dead here to see you!'

'Hail, Mighty Mug'thol.' said Tichondrius as he came forward. 'I am Tichondrius, and I come to you bearing the goodwill of the Legion.'

'We not fear Legion!' said Mug'thol. 'We crush weak dead!''

A predictable outcome. 'No doubt you do. Indeed such is your unassailable power that we desire your friendship. Rather than your enmity.'

'Big talk mean nothing.' said Mug'thol. 'What you want?'

Perhaps Mug'thol was wiser than his appearance dictated. 'Even as we speak the Legion does battle with our mutual enemies the Alliance. Our hour is at hand, and our victory is all but certain. But we remember well our friends. If you aid us in our struggle, then in return all the land of Lordaeron shall be yours when victory is gained.'

'Lordaeron big.' said Mug'thol 'Lots more than just alliance.'

'And yet those who have been crushed beneath the heel of the Alliance may be united as one.' said Tichondrius 'If you will but rally them, then they will surely folllow you. You will gather the dispossessed and beaten masses of those the wretches call creeps. You will become in time not a Chieftain but a mighty king who all the world will fear.' Of course what he wasn't saying was that he would covertly arrange for their minds to be ensnared by dark magic. Just as even now Tichondrius reached forth with his mind to ensnare Mug'thol.

He had more intelligence than the average brute. But he was no match for a Nathrezim.

'Mug'thol not believe you.' said Mug'thol.

And Tichondrius hit a brick wall. It was then that he noticed the tiny circlet on top of one of Mug'thols head. It was so small that it scarcely fit around the base of his horn. It was also putting up magic protection from any mind-influencing powers.

'I assure you,' said Tichondrius, 'the Legion desires the Alliance's destruction as much as you do.'

'Mug'thol talk with Zul'jin.' said Mug'thol. 'Zul'jin say Dreadlord leave forest trolls out to dry. Forest trolls smart. Know what talking about. Get off Mug'thols lawn.'

So the savages communicated with one another. Tichondrius supposed that forest trolls and ogres had much to offer one another. 'Do the forest trolls truly have your best interest at heart? We did not abandon them, we tested them, and they proved unworthy in the result. Yet your people are strong. Long ago the orcs gained a great advantage over your kind by drinking the blood of Mannaroth.

'I ask you, how must stronger would you become?'

'Mug'thol don't need demon blood!' shouted Mug'thol. 'Mug'thol strongest there is!' And he pounded the ground with such force that it created a small crater.

It was time to improvise. 'Well spoken, Mug'thol.' said Tichondrius. 'The Legion does not desire mindless sycophants scurrying for a reward. But cunning generals with strength of their own. And you are one of those. It is my hope that in time we may mend relations.

'Farewell.'

And he faded away from green mist. He reappeared on a cliff above where Balnazzar and Varimethras were standing as well. Tichondrius listened keenly.

'Weak dead leader kinda shifty.' said an ogre.

'Mug'thol like idea of United Kingdom of Creeps, though.' said Mug'thol. 'King Mug'thol have nice ring to it. Send emissaries to gnolls and bandits and murlocs. Get together army. Beat up weak dead and puny humans.'

'What about Blackrock Orcs?' asked an ogre.

'We not invite.' said Mug'thol. 'They bunch of jerks.'

Tichondrius sighed. 'Well, at the very least if things fail here Mug'thol may sew further chaos. An indirect control is still control. But this does not help the situation in Dalaran.'

'What are we to do?' asked Varimathras. 'Indirect methods are no longer of any use.'

'Do not be so hasty to admit defeat, brother.' said Balnazzar. 'We must adjust our strategy, true. But we may still gain control of these brutes in time.'

'Time we do not have.' noted Tichondrius. 'Balnazzar gather the Dreadlords who don't have vital tasks. Have them make for Dalaran with their undead. I suspect we will need all the power we can muster there today.'

'What of myself?' asked Varimathras.

'I assign you the task of guiding this "Kingdom of Creeps."' said Tichondrius. 'Ensure they are formed successfully and cause chaos.'

'Yet surely all of that will be irrelevant if Lord Archimonde is summoned.' said Varimathras.

'And if he is not?' asked Tichondrius. 'We are in a dangerous position. If we fail here, we must have a secondary plan. As for myself. I think it is time I took a direct hand in the matter.

'Still, first I must consult Lord Archimonde. He must be made aware of events, though I am sure he already knows.'

Tichondrius teleported away and emerged into the Blackrock Clan village.

The air was colder than the last time he had been here. There were still some warriors here, ones who could be thrown against the enemy. But Tichondrius could not directly command them. They had been given orders by Jubei'thos to guard the village and not leave for any reason.

Now Tichondrius made his way to the demon gate and sent forth his will to summon the specter of Lord Archimonde. The demon lord appeared and looked less than pleased. 'Tichondrius.'

'Hail, Lord Archimonde.' said Tichondrius. 'Events proceed to the Legion's benefit.'

'I do not share your optimistic appraisal of the situation, Dreadlord.' said Archimonde. 'My plans have been disrupted time and again by these humans. And I see no ceremony to bring me into this world. Only one for Mannoroth. How do you account for this?'

'Unfortunately, the humans realized our goal.' said Tichondrius. 'They took steps to ensure the Book of Medivh was useless to us. Our fallback plan, the Skull of Gul'dan, proved less sure than we had hoped. The Warlock, it seems, forgot much of his old knowledge before the end.

'We are now attempting to weaken the barrier between the worlds.. Very soon you will be able to force an entry into this world. I assure you.'

'Who leads these mortals that have caused our plans such trouble?' asked Archimonde.

'A human Prince, named Arthas.' said Tichondrius. 'I am told that Mal'ganis and the Lich King both had an interest in him. However, nothing came of that. He poses no threat to us now, I assure you.'

Archimonde narrowed his eyes. '…I see.' he said. 'He poses no threat. First, the scourge is repulsed from Lordaeron. Then Northrend is raided, and now the Book of Medivh has been rendered useless. And now you come whimpering to me. You tell me that in order to achieve our goals I must undertake one of the most dangerous risks possible.

'Not a threat indeed.'

'Lord Archimonde-' began Tichondrius.

'Entering the mortal realm without a summoner is no simple matter.' said Archimonde. 'If the process was disrupted even I might be brought harm.'

He needed someone to blame this fiasco on. 'I am aware, Lord Archimonde.' said Tichondrius. 'However, the situation has deteriorated. Mal'ganis has badly mismanaged the situation. If you wish I could give orders for the invasion to be halted. I have several plans which may bear fruit at a later date.' That would probably be for the best.

Archimonde paused to consider it. '…No. We have waited too long as it is. This world should have been destroyed decades ago. However, the Legion will hold you responsible for the results of this fiasco. Whether I make it through or not.'

'I understand.' said Tichondrius. 'Ask anything of me, and I swear it will be done. I am at your disposal.'

'Kill everything in Dalaran.' said Archimonde. 'Nothing must survive when I begin to enter this world. Nothing.'

Tichondrius summoned his sword, a massive black curved blade that was as tall as he was. Long had he wielded it as a young Dreadlord. Now, however, he was older. Not weaker, but until now he had thought direct combat beneath him. 'As you wish, Lord Archimonde.'

The connection was cut. Tichondrius turned to the leader of the Blackrock Warriors who had been left behind. His name escaped him. 'You, Jubei'thos commands that you take your warriors and set out to Dalaran to aid the Legion in its battle.

'Mannoroth walks in his place, and he awaits your command.'

'So he may.' said the orc. 'But only Jubei'thos may command us. Or Mannoroth or his messenger should he come directly.'

'You serve the Legion, do you not?' asked Tichondrius.

'Yes.' said the orc.

'Then do not disobey our commands. Make ready to set out for Dalaran with all the warriors that remain. The need is dire. I must go myself.' And he teleported away.

He found Mannoroth standing upon a broken and ruined hill. Beneath their sight, the gate of Dalaran had been taken again. But corpses had filled the gate and surrounded the gap. The sound of ringing bells and battle echoed throughout the streets. The fires of the Burning Legion were rising high on many buildings. Yet it was contested by light.

Tichondrius saluted the great demon lord. 'Hail, Mighty Mannoroth. How goes the invasion?'

'These humans put up stiff resistance.' said Mannoroth. 'We took the gate some time ago, and we're fighting our way through the city now. They are very good at withdrawing with their forces intact. And their leader has a will of iron.'

'I am well aware.' said Tichondrius. 'Lord Archimonde has commanded that everything in Dalaran must be slain. We are to enter the fray directly.'

'…You intend to take a direct hand in matters?' said Mannoroth doubtfully.

'It is the will of Lord Archimonde.' said Tichondrius. 'Come, Mannoroth let us descend and lay the mortals to waste. Between our powers, these wretches shall not stand.'

Mannoroth laughed. 'So be it! None shall stand before us!'

'We shall see.' said Tichondrius.

* * *

It had been a bloody night. An unending tide of demons had flowed against the defenders. Arthas had killed dozens of them at the gate. Hundreds had fallen around him, but finally, they had been driven in. Then necromancers had come forward and raised the corpses of the dead. So a new army of undead to washed against them.

The mages of the Kirin Tor had used their barrier well here. It had made mopping up those undead who were raised far easier. But all too soon the demons mustered and charged into the city. What had followed was a gradual fighting retreat. They left a trail of corpses behind as they withdrew closer and closer to the Violet Citadel. Those corpses would be raised and be the vanguard for the next wave of demons.

So it had gone. Until at long last they stood before the Violet Citadel itself. The beautiful fortress of magic had been built upon a Nexus of Magical Energy. It stood tall above them and here they made their stand. If they had to retreat within Arthas would have to use his fallback plan.

He sent a wave of light to obliterate a dozen ghouls. Ducking under the blow of a doomguard he stabbed upwards into his heart. He saw Sylvanas stab a fel hound through the head, then ham strung a pit lord. The footmen had formed a wall and were slashing down all who came. The archers and riflemen had found new ammunition and were using. Even the demons could not pierce their ranks. Falric was at their head, shouting encouragements to his men.

Then came Mannoroth. And with him was a Dreadlord clad in crimson. Mannoroth rushed toward the lines and with a might cleave scattered the center.

He pushed through, heedless of the barrage of projectiles and began the slaughter. Demons came behind him with a cheer. The Dreadlord flew high into the air and raised a hand. Infernals fell from the sky and disrupted the formation. As planned a taskforce of knights rode out to cover the retreat.

Yet the Dreadlord fell upon them with a massive blade. Like a berserker he hewed down many of them, roaring and striking in a way more befitting an orc. None could touch him, and all who faced him were cut down by the strokes of his sword. The knights were scattered. The army was falling apart around them.

'Fall back to the Violet Citadel!' cried Arthas. 'Fall back!'

It was not a retreat. It was a route. All around him the disciplined men of Lordaeron were fleeing in abysmal disarray. Fire rained around them as the demons closed in around them. Only a small knot of men held their ground. Falric and those closest to him had formed a wedge and were fighting their way through. Several demons fell.

Arthas made for them.

But Mannoroth got there first.

'Pitiful wretches!' cried Mannoroth as he sent a shockwave which scattered the formation. 'None of you can stand before the might of Mannoroth!'

Falric was sent flying and hit a wall before lying still. From the time Arthas had been a child he had known Falric. The guard had been part of his life longer than anyone else who wasn't family. When Uther and Jaina had abandoned him, Falric had stayed true.

And now he was dead.

In a rage, Arthas rushed at Mannoroth. All the fury and outrage he'd felt was unleashed in a single charge, heedless of the risk to his own life. The demon turned to him and raised its weapon in defense. Arthas leaped into the air and struck.

The blade cleaved through the haft of Mannoroth's weapon and struck the demon in the face. The sword caught him over the left eye and shattered into pieces with the impact. The demon reeled backward. The blood which poured from his eye was aflame, but he still lived. Taking up one half of his broken weapon Mannoroth struck at Arthas.

Summoning the power of the light Arthas raised a shield. The blade slammed the shield and was reflected. Yet such was the might that Arthas was thrown from his feet. Above him, the starless sky was utterly dark. The shadow of the demon loomed over him as the divine shield faded.

'So the Prince of Lordaeron has come forth to face me.' said Mannoroth, smiling. 'A worthy effort. But futile.' He raised his blade for the final blow.

Then Falric was there. The Captain came from the side and drove his blade into Mannoroth's side. The blade pierced the hide and drove deep into the demon's flesh. The Pit Lord screamed in agony and writhed in pain.

The howls of agony from Mannoroth were deafening. 'I am wounded, minions, to me!'

Falric limped to his side and helped him up. The two friends arose, but their spirits fell. There was no way of escape. All around them the demons and undead were circled.

'I return to serve, milord.' said Falric.

'Defend my back.' said Arthas. 'We'll die fighting.'

And then the Dreadlord from before descended. His sword was dripping with blood and his fangs were red. He looked almost feral as he landed. Within moments the bloodlust which he showed faded for only a moment. He looked at them, eyes flaring with fire.

Then he rushed forward at them with a bestial roar. Falric raised his shield to block the strike. Yet the shield shattered beneath the impact and he fell prone, arm at an unnatural angle. Arthas ducked beneath a vicious stroke and caught the hand that had swung it. He wrestled with the Dreadlord for a moment. Yet the strength within those pale arms was monstrous.

He was thrown down and the Dreadlord struck. There was a flash and an impact and the Dreadlord was thrown backward. Rhonin appeared. Quickly he cast a spell and they were within the Violet Citadel in a moment. Arthas looked to Falric and tried to channel the light to heal him.

But he was exhausted. There was no power left in him.

'Get a priest, quickly!' said Arthas to some servants. 'Get a healer!'

'The retreat is done.' said Rhonin. 'What is left of our army is now within the Violet Citadel. This place has powerful enchantments on it. It will keep them out for a while.'

'What about that strike team you had planned?' asked Arthas. 'Can you reach the enemy?'

'No.' said Rhonin. 'Kel'thuzad has raised fields which prevent us from teleporting in whenever we desire. We are working on piercing them, but it may take some time. Time which we don't have.' There was despair in his eyes. 'I didn't think it would end this way.'

'I've thought that before.' said Arthas. 'What about the fallback plan?'

'Lord Antonidas succeeded.' said Rhonin.

'Good.' said Arthas. 'Then there may be some hope left.'

Rhonin turned to leave.

'Oh and Rhonin.' said Arthas.

The man looked up. 'Yes?'

'Thank you.' said Arthas.

Rhonin sighed. 'You're welcome. Lord Antonidas is calling a meeting to discuss our final plans. You'd best come to the council chamber with me.'

'Yes, of course.' said Arthas.

'Prince Arthas,' said Falric.

Arthas looked at his friend. Falric offered him his sword. It was a fine weapon, of elaborate design. It had been made to impress as well as fight. The symbol of the Alliance was on the blade and Arthas could sense the power within it.

'Take it…' said Falric.

'Falric?' said Arthas.

'Your blade was broken in the fray.' said Falric. 'Use mine. It was given to me by King Terenas in acknowledgment of my bravery. It is powerful. And if you see that cursed demon Mal'ganis, plunge it into his black heart.'

'I will.' said Arthas.

He sheathed the sword as the priests arrived. Arthas turned and followed Rhonin to the meeting. A meeting where they would discuss their last chance to save this world.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Well, here we have chapter 12. I can't really think of anything to say, so enjoy.

Also if anyone is wondering why Arthas' attack on Mannoroth didn't kill him, think about it. Grom hit Mannoroth with a legendary super axe. Arthas is using a normal longsword. Falric faired better because the sword he wields is magical. He is the Captain of the Royal Guard, after all.


	13. The Dawn Rises

**Chapter Thirteen: The Dawn Rises**

The night was at its darkest. Neither the moon or stars had shown themselves. The only light in this blackness came from the flames. Flames which raged within the woods around Dalaran. Many fires had been set, and the smoke of their burning could be seen to high heaven. The pounding of a ram against the gates echoed throughout the shattered city. The Violet Citadel was under siege.

It was a locket that had Arthas' attention. It showed a picture of Jaina Proudmoore. She was smiling. He'd kept it for years without realizing it. He doubted now that he would ever see her again.

"Prince Arthas," said Antonidas, "the meeting must begin."0

"I understand." said Arthas. "Are they away?"

"My wizards have succeeded in evacuating the civilians of Dalaran to Hearthglen." said Antonidas. "We are now moving the wounded and those unwilling to stay. When the demons break through, they will find only the most healthy of our warriors behind.

"We can use the fallback plan at any time."

"Good." said Arthas.

"What fallback plan?" asked Valeera.

"The spell we use to destroy undead does so by causing a chain reaction." said Antonidas. "The magic within them goes haywire and consumed them. Arthas requested I look into creating a similar chain reaction. One that would affect all of Dalaran."

"Would that really make a difference?" asked Sylvanas.

"Dalaran has centuries of spellwork inlaid into its every wall." said Antonidas. "It was founded to study a nexus of powerful energy at the very heart of Dalaran. There is great power here. If we do what Prince Arthas suggested it will create a magical explosion. One that will consume everything within this city and surrounding it in an inferno of raw mana."

"Then let us blow it and leave." said Sylvanas. "The city is ruined anyway."

"We can't destroy Dalaran!" said Valeera.

"The city is all but destroyed anyway, Valeera." said Rhonin. "And better it than the world."

"The ritual will take time." said Antonidas. "And once begun it cannot be stopped. We also want to save as many people as possible. I do not think we should all be here when it goes off. I will remain to destroy it. Krasus and Rhonin should go to Hearthglen once all that can be evacuated are."

"Let me do it." said Rhonin. "I could-"

"I'm an old man, Rhonin." said Antonidas. "I'll be dead in a decade or so anyway. And I have no desire to live to see my city in ruins."

"What of the summoning?" asked Valeera.

"Uther is coming." said Arthas. "And we'll take most of the enemy army with us. He should be able to deal with what is left."

"Prince Arthas," said Krasus, "you should leave with the rest. You are the Prince of Lordaeron."

Leave? To do what? To rule over a brutalized and ruined land? To hear the scorn of his people. Those whose loved ones he dug up. To feel the haughty glances of self-righteous paladins until he was old and died alone in some distant tower.

There was a strong impact that shook the tower. Arthas looked out the window. He saw the crimson dreadlord standing by the ram. Raising his sword, dark energies were channeled into it. The ram struck, and the gate splintered. He drew Falric's sword. He did not have one of his own.

"When the gate breaks I will be there to bar the demons way." said Arthas. He looked to Sylvanas. "Farewell, milady."

Sylvanas remained silent for a moment. 'I'll go with you."

"Then I suppose we will both die here." said Arthas.

And he departed.

They made their way among the men. Their faces were hopeless. Some wept openly. Others leaned against walls and looked at the world with empty eyes. Most of them were mercenaries from foreign lands. Men who had joined not to defend their home but for glory and honor. Now it seemed they would all die a very horrible death. The cries of demons could be heard outside.

"Arthas!" Arthas turned and saw Krasus running to him. 'Arthas, you are too important to your people to lose! You must leave!'

His people. Yes, that was his primary concern. His outrage had cooled. His hate had faded. He hadn't thought of revenge in some time. All his focus had been on protecting people. Even his humiliation of Mal'ganis had merely been a minor satisfaction. He smiled. "Leave? This is the city where I was almost married. Its walls were carved by the finest of dwarven masons. The spells inlaid within its stones were crafted by the elves of old. Men and woman of all races have lived side by side in this place for centuries.

"It is a monument to what the Alliance should have been. I would gladly give all that I am to defend it a while longer."

Krasus looked down gravely. "So be it. Go with the light, young Prince."

And he was gone.

"The gate is breaking!" cried a soldier.

"You are soldiers of the Alliance!" cried Arthas. 'Whatever demons we face, we will slay them all! On your feet! Swords out!"

They obeyed. As the gate cracked their spears and swords were readied. Sylvanas had her knives in hand. The dwarves had axes to replace their guns. The elves had swords to replace their bows. The mages and priests stood by with spell and sword.

The door broke.

* * *

Though Mannoroth had been wounded his absence had not lost them the fight. His lieutenant, Azgalor, had taken his place. And the route was nearly complete. Even now the mortals huddled together in their fortress. They were hoping to ride out a storm that would end their world.

Fools.

Tichondrius could have safely departed. But the lust of battle long held back was now upon him. When the gates of the Violet Citadel fell he would be the first to set foot within, not Azgalor and not Mannoroth. First not just of this army, but of every enemy who had ever assailed the Wizards. None had come so far before him.

The gates were cast down and the demonlord rushed over the threshold. Behind him came the assembled hosts of the Legion! The defenders waiting cowered before the coming onslaught!

And then there was light.

Tichondrius halted, shielding his eyes. There was the Prince of Lordaeron. And yet he was not as he was. He was tall and proud and held in his hand a new sword. He seemed almost more a vessel from which the light poured than any creature of flesh and blood.

"Turn back, demon!" cried Arthas. "You will not enter this place!"

There was a command in those words. Tichondrius found himself feeling something, fear. Fear not of these mortals, but of the light which stood behind them. Ever had it opposed the Legion. Yet Tichondrius had never been thwarted by it, merely delayed and he laughed. He threw back his cloak and raised his sword.

"Have you no conception of who you face, human?" he said. "I am the Lord of the Nathrezim! The Dreadlord Mal'ganis who you have marked your equal is but my minion! You and all who defy us shall die and their souls will be tormented for all eternity! Alongside all those who oppose the Legion!"

And then there came the first rays of the sun as it rose in the west.

The dawn crept up over the horizon it illuminated the blackened land of Dalaran. Then there came a horncall, loud and shrill. It echoed throughout the hills and looking up Tichondrus could see a lone rider on the hills above. A hammer was in his hand. And though he had come from the east, it seemed as though another sun was rising to meet the one in the west halfway. And then there came an answer. Horn after horn resounded throughout the land as over the hills came an army.

* * *

Uther and the Knights of the Silver Hand had come as promised!

Their enemies were legion. They stretched out across the fields before the city of Dalaran like a red tide. Unholy magic was in the air. But Uther was not afraid. The light was his strength and no power could contend with it openly. Yet the city was nearly fallen and they must strike quickly.

He looked to his paladins, all assembled before him. 'Sage Truthbearer take your paladins toward the hill above! Disrupt the ritual! Saiden follow me to assault the main army! Lord Buzan descend and relieve the city!

"Take heart defenders of the light! We shall not falter! Drive these foul beasts before us!"

Then urging his horse forward, he charged. The Silver Hand rode down toward the enemy army like the wind. Yet Uther was faster still. He fell upon the enemy line like a thunderbolt and with a stroke of his hammer it parted. With every blow, his enemies fell around him by the dozen.

The Captain of the demons rushed to meet him. The huge violet Pit Lord swung his axe downward. It met Uther's hammer and shattered. With another blow, Uther smashed in his skull. Light poured out and the darkness recoiled.

The host of the Legion shattered.

Then the Silver Hand managed to catch up with Uther. They were eager to prove themselves the equal of their grandmaster. They hacked and slashed their way into the failing armies. Within moments hundreds of demons had been slain. The army turned and fled in a rout.

Uther looked around. He saw Saiden fighting well. He had taken the gates and was driving the Legion before him. The army that had been attacking Dalaran was now caught between a hammer and an anvil. Sage Truthbearer now assailed the summoning circle. The guards there were falling quickly.

Victory was near.

* * *

Tichondrius was afraid. Afraid that the Silver Hand would overwhelm the last defense. Afraid he would destroy the summoning. Afraid that he would fail the Legion. Afraid of his master's wrath.

But more than that he feared the rider who even now rode over the corpses of a vast army. Azgalor was dead. He had been killed so easily. The siege of the city was lifting. What was left of his army was scattered and leaderless. The reinforcements pouring through the portal were occupied simply holding it. And they were failing.

If they failed all was lost.

Tichondrius took to the air and flew into the center of the battle. Raising a hand, he ripped through the barrier between the worlds. Infernals rained from the sky to land among the Silver Hand. Tichondrius landed among them a moment later. With a swing of his sword, he hewed down six knights. Rushing forward he carved a bloody swath through a dozen footmen. He fell on the riflemen, hacking them to pieces.

He sent a wave of darkness that washed over the armies. He summoned a rain of fire that consumed many men. With another spell, he sent many more to sleep. And yet as he looked around, he realized he had only bought a brief reprieve. The Silver Hand was rallying.

He rushed to the remaining forces who were fleeing and landed before them. "Stand your ground fools!" he roared. "Or torment will be put upon you! The memory of your names shall forever strike terror into the hearts of those who hear them!"

The demons stopped. What few of them were left mastered themselves. They feared Archimonde nearly as much as they feared these paladins. "We are yours to command."

"Go to the hill!" roared Tichondrius. "Reinforce Mal'ganis and Mannoroth! The hill must not fall!"

As they obeyed Tichondrius surveyed the ruination of his army. The infernals were being destroyed. Those sent to sleep were woken with a spell from the paladin. The wounded were being healed.

He'd hardly made a dent in the army. The fighting in the city still raged. But now the Paladin was turning his attention to the hill. And Tichondrius knew in that moment that nothing he had done would make a difference. He'd thrown everything he had into that assault. His hands were shaking from exertion. He was out of mana.

It wasn't fair.

He drew out a potion of mana and drank it. Feeling his strength restored he prepared to give his life in defense of the hill. It would be better than to survive and earn Archimonde's wrath.

"For Lord Archimonde! For the Legion!" came a cry.

And out of the Alterac highlands came undead. Tens of thousands of undead. The Dreadlords were assembled now in greater numbers than before. They descended upon the hill. The paladin's attackers were repulsed and many were slain in their effort to reform. Balnazzar now stood atop the hillside and Tichondrius laughed.

Hurling his sword high into the air he caught it as it descended and went to him. "Well done Balnazzar. This is a greater force than I had ever hoped for!"

"This is all that remains of our assembled hosts." said Balnazzar "Every lesser Dreadlord has been summoned. Alone they were of little account, but together we have a host to match the paladins."

"Throw everything you have against these paladins." said Tichondrius. "They are not to be taken lightly." He paused. "Mal'ganis, how goes the summoning?"

Mal'ganis bowed. "Lord Tichondrius, even as we speak the barrier between the worlds is weakening. Soon the plan will be complete."

"It had better be." said Tichondrius. "For your sake. Where is Mannoroth?"

Mal'ganis motioned. The Pit Lord was roaring in agony from the wound he had received as a number of Warlocks set about healing him. "He has been badly injured. The human who stabbed him came very close to his heart. However, he should survive. Yet I do not think he will be able to reenter this battle."

"Then get him out of here." said Tichondrius. "Have him take his forces and go to the Blackrock Clan village."

His attention was drawn away then. The Silver Hand had now turned its attention to destroying the demons within Dalaran. So much the better. It bought them time if only a little. And in that time Mal'ganis set about raising the corpses of the dead to fill out their army.

There were many corpses.

Already the numbers of the Legion had swelled to more than three times what they had been before. Yes, the scourge truly was a work of art. No matter how many defeats it suffered it could always return from the brink.

Then he felt another rip torn in the veil between this reality and the nether. Tichondrius smiled as he turned to where Kel'thuzad was channeling his power. "It is done!" cried Kel'thuzad. "Now Lord Kazzak, enter this world and let your hosts bring ruin to the Legion's enemies."

And Kazzak came. He loomed above them, massive, even for a doomguard. And his hosts came forth behind him.

"I have come, Lich!" roared Kazzak. "By the will of Lord Kil'jaden let all who would oppose the Legion fall! Forward! Let no one stand in our way!"

"Impeccable timing, Lord Kazzak." said Tichondrius. "Now our victory is all but assured."

There had been some rough spots. But with Kazzak and his armies, even the Silver Hand would not long stand. It wasn't as if there was yet another huge army of humans coming to aid the defense.

* * *

History repeated itself, reflected Malcom the village elder.

Years ago when the Second War was about to begin Southshore had been graced with a fleet. Anduin Lothar had arrived on the shore with thousands of boats. They had carried the entire remaining population of Stormwind. He had set foot in a prosperous and powerful land and come to beg their aid.

Things had changed since then. Though Southshore had not felt the scourge yet, they had not escaped it. Refugees had fled to them from all over. News of horrors spread daily. Of plagues that transformed people into undead. Of infected grain and horrors beyond imagining.

Now the sky itself had turned an unholy hue. Flaming comets could be seen falling in the distance over Dalaran. And those brave enough to venture far north described a scene right out of hell itself.

History repeated itself. But nothing ever happened the same way twice.

This time it was Lordaeron in need. This time the fleet was of warships. This time they came in great numbers. There was the banner of Khaz Modan, and Stormwind, and Kul'tiras. They sailed in great numbers and those that set foot on the shore were men and dwarves clad for war.

At their head was a young man clad in royal armor. His hair was tied behind his back and on his back were two swords. He had a scar across his face and he was vaguely familiar to some who had been alive to see the Second War. With him was a blonde dwarf clad similarly.

"We'd best move quickly lad." said Muradin. "There's no telling what trouble Arthas has gotten himself into without me. And I don't like the looks of this sky."

"It is strange," said Varian, "between us Arthas was always the more thoughtful one. It doesn't seem like him to be reckless."

"Oh he's been thoughtful alright." said Muradin. "A little more than people are comfortable with. I'll tell you later."

These people knew Prince Arthas? That boded well.

"Greetings Noble Lord." said Malcom. "We did not know to expect such a host. Who are you and what may we do for you?"

"I am King Varian Wrynn." said Varian. "Years ago your people helped us reclaim our Kingdom. We're here to return the favor."

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay, let me just explain something. In canon, Garithos is not from Stormwind. He is from Lordaeron. But that makes the emblem on his shield a plot hole. So my explanation is that Garithos WAS from Stormwind. He fled with his family to Lordaeron after the fall, and had his family get killed in the same way as refugees. This explains both why he was not in Lordaeron during the original story.

Not that that is relevant since Garithos isn't here.

 **Edit:**

Made some alterations to make the Lord of the Rings shout outs a bit less obvious.

 **Double Edit:**

I've just gone through the entire story and edited the whole thing. I fixed a bunch of grammar errors. Also added a scene with Anastarian Sunstrider in chapter five. And removed the shipping scene between Sylvanas and Arthas. I decided there simply wasn't enough buildup to it.


	14. Gathering the Flock

**Chapter Fourteen: Gathering the Flock**

When Captain Falric awoke the pain was gone. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes he saw the face of the last man he'd ever wanted to see in this life or any other. Tirion Fordring wore rags instead of armor. But it made him no less contemptible.

'You awaken.' said Fordring.

'…Tirion Fordring.' said Falric as he sat up. 'I thought you had skulked off to whatever exile you had chosen.'

'The courtesy of the line of Menethil and their entourage has lessened greatly of late, it seems.' said Tirion.

'Courtesy is a luxury.' said Falric. 'My Prince stood alone against the darkness. While mighty Lords washed their hands of Lordaeron's fate.'

'If the butchery of the innocent is to stand against the dark, then to resist the orcs was futile.' noted Tirion.

'Fine words.' said Falric 'Ones you are well poised to speak. Orc friend.'

'You think your words a curse.' said Tirion 'But that only displays your ignorance. They are no more good or wicked than men. And your Prince has done things even they would find abhorrent.'

'Have men given ourselves willing to the embrace of infernal magics?' asked Falric 'Have men laid to waste our world? Have men corrupted the very land beneath our feet for the sake of pure bloodlust? Flawed we may be, but never have we bartered the souls of our race for the sake of power.'

'Was not the Cult of the Damned formed from men?' asked Tirion.

'It was. And humanity fights them still.' shot back Falric. 'If the day came when their unholy plans came to fruition. If all of mankind was brought under the heel of the Dark Lord, I should desire my race's destruction. Much as I desire the end of orcs.'

'There were many among the orcs who fought against it.' said Tirion.

'Were there?' asked Falric. 'I did not see their help when Ogrim's armies assailed the walls of Lordaeron City. Nor when Strahnbrad was raided. What help have they been to us?'

'I wonder if good orcs think the same of us.' said Tirion.

'But we have not ruined our world and sought to wholly exterminate another to extend our own life. They were merely cast into prison when beaten.' said Falric. 'A mercy they did not deserve, for they have repaid us for with our own blood.'

'This is futile.' said Tirion. 'Your wounds are healed. I have others to attend to. Captain Vareesa desired to speak with you when you awakened and it would do well if you could meet with her.'

Falric arose, found his armor and donned it. He quickly found a new sword and emerged to find himself within Hearthglen. The large town had changed. The broken gates had been repaired. And the people were all different. There had not been many survivors, but it seemed that others had taken up residence since.

Vereesa Windrunner was standing atop one of the walls looking out over the landscape. Falric came up beside her and looked on. The land before them was dying. The trees were blights. Spots of black dotted once green fields. Distantly one could see the water and beyond it a place of utter darkness. Forsaken. It was once the sight of the undead bastions. They had been destroyed by Uther. But they're mark remained.

'I never imagined it was this bad.' said Vereesa.

'Dalaran looked worse.' mused Falric. 'I'm afraid there won't be much left when this is over.'

'Is it all like this?' asked Vereesa.

'From Anderhol to Stratholme.' said Falric 'Prince Arthas sent men to train a militia from the remaining villages. But there are few left. Many were killed by Mal'ganis. Many more left with Lady Proudmoore to seek a new life in the west. Those that remain are few.

Even if the scourge is annihilated, I fear this land will remain empty.' He paused. 'Why is Tirion Fordring here? And why am I here?'

Vereesa sighed. 'You were moved here with the rest of the wounded on Prince Arthas' orders. Someone has to be here to protect the refugees from Dalaran. That's why Sylvanas sent me here. As for Tirion, he tried to head south to Dalaran but he got lost in a mist and could not find a horse.

When we got here, the village was almost empty. I thought you defended this place.'

'We did.' said Falric 'But most of the villagers died from the plague. I remember Marwynn had a sweetheart here. He had to kill her. We watched the people of this town transformed into undead before our eyes. We managed to stop the plague from spreading to other villages, and we destroyed a great undead army.

Then we reached Stratholme.' He sighed. 'I should be at Dalaran.'

'One sword won't make a difference.' said Vereesa.

'It isn't my sword that is needed.' said Falric. 'Prince Arthas has been abandoned by everyone he trusted. Everyone except myself and Marwynn. No one else understood what needed to be done. Uther and Lady Proudmoore abandoned him when he needed them most.'

'He has others he can trust.' said Vereesa. 'Like my sister.'

'I suppose so.' mused Falric. 'At the very least I may have a chance to rest.'

A man on a horse rode into view. He looked to be in a panic as he came on. 'Captain Falric! Where is Captain Falric?'

'I am here!' called Falric. 'What is it?'

'During the night a vast army of undead marched out of the Alterac Highlands. They started villages at random!' said the soldier. 'Now it's heading this way!'

Falric covered his face with his hands. '…Typical really.' he looked down to one of his officers. He was a brown bearded member of the Silver Hand who had left them at Stratholme and returned later. 'Jorad! Gather the men. We'll defend the villagers with our lives. Let this man in and give him shelter. Send word to the surrounding villages. Tell them that they can take shelter with us and their men at arms can join us in the defense.

'Vereesa dispatch rangers to find the enemy army and to protect the fleeing refugees. I hope the enemy is smaller than last time. I doubt Uther will be coming to our aid.'

'No.' said a voice. 'But I may.'

Tirion appeared. He was holding a wooden mallet and looking grim. Falric regarded him without concealing his contempt. 'So no one will come to our aid.' he said. 'I have need of soldiers. Not cowards who attacked their comrades and haven't the decency to even regret it.'

'And Lordaeron has need of heroes.' said Tirion. 'Not butchers of children.'

'Stop it both of you!' said Vereesa. 'We need everyone we can get! Can you agree to bury your quarrel until we've won the battle at least?'

Falric shrugged. '…So be it. Tirion Fordring since you have lived without honor I expect you will be at the front of the combat. You may as well die with some measure of honor and rid the world of your presence.'

'I would have been there anyway.' said Tirion.

'Then get yourself armor and a shield.' said Falric. 'The village armory should be full. Most of those who were to wield the weapons are dead.'

'Why are you so harsh on him?' asked Vereesa.

'He attacked his comrades and allowed an orc to escape.' said Falric. 'He was rightfully stripped of his rank and thrown from the order.'

'Just one orc?' said Vereesa.

'Through that one orc he did more than disobey orders.' said Falric. 'He betrayed the alliance, his king, and his race by his actions. One does not disobey ones' King.'

'Didn't you do the same thing?' asked Vereesa.

'The situation was different.' said Falric.

'How?' asked Vereesa.

'King Terenas did not understand the situation.' said Falric. 'His son did and had chosen to take the actions necessary to save Lordaeron. We have scarcely held out as things stand. How much worse would it be if not for Arthas' efforts?'

'But you did disobey orders from your king.' noted Vereesa. 'He is acknowledged as the rightful ruler of Lordaeron by the alliance.'

'The fate of the entire world may have rested on my decision.' said Falric. 'Tirion could have let that orc die, and nothing would have changed.'

'Would it have been right?' asked Vereesa.

'Of course.' said Falric. 'It was an orc. To slay it would have been just. Now we have work to do.'

He made his way throughout Hearthglen, familiarizing himself with the command. It turned out that others had come to this town for shelter. The people from Dalaran were only the first. Those guarding it were not professional soldiers. They wielded hatchets and knives. They wore leather for armor if they wore armor at all. They had little training if any. Those that had training were novices at best.

Of course with all the wounded from Dalaran being healed, there were large groups of soldiers in the town. It was a stronger defense than Prince Arthas had had to work with to be sure. Yet he had to create a command from the ground up, finding various officers to be in charge of one group or another.

Eventually, Jorad approached him. 'Captain Falric we've sent the runners as you requested. I'd like permission to join in defense of the refugees.'

'Granted.' said Falric. 'Go, but try not to get yourself killed.' He paused. 'Oh, and who is in charge of the priests here? Tirion?'

'No.' said Jorad. 'Tirion was merely the most skilled of all the healers. You'll want Sally Whitemane. She can be found over there.' He motioned to the chapel.

'Very well.' said Falric. 'I'll go find her. Dismissed.'

* * *

Sally Whitemane was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair was white as snow, and she had tan skin. She wore a red outfit which clung to her curvaceous form and showed off her thighs. It was also low cut, drawing attention to her ample bust. Long heeled red boots were on her feet, and she had a red cap on her head.

It was not the picture of a priest of the light.

'I am Sally Whitemane of the Church of Light.' she said. 'How may I aid you Captain Falric?'

'First I should like to know of what has been happening in Hearthglen.' said Falric.

'Saiden Dethronan called upon us to fight against the undead.' said Sally. 'We have been leading groups of refugees here for some time. And also mustering what forces we can from these humble folk. Hearthglen is to be made into a stronghold for the light.

'We eagerly await the return of Mograine.'

'Well he won't come today.' said Falric. 'There are greater battles than Hearthglen to fight in.'

'The light will strengthen us.' said Sally. 'In time we shall triumph, and the foul dead shall be purged.'

'One can only hope.' said Falric.

He found he did not much like this woman. Her outfit was more suited someone from a brothel than a priestess. And her words held a manic tinge to them. He wasn't sure what it was.

'Falric, the refugees are coming!' said a soldier.

'Open the gates and let them in.' said Falric.

He made his way out to the gates. Whitemane went with him, clutching her staff. The doors began to open, but Whitemane motioned, and they stopped. Falric looked to her.

'We must check them for signs of the plague, Captain Falric.' said Sally 'The undead may have made traps. We must not let the taint of undeath spread to us.'

'The plague has already killed many.' said Falric 'If we don't let them in now all of them will die. Is that what you want?'

Sally considered it. '…Very well, but we must keep them confined where they can do no harm.'

'One moment.' said Falric. 'Let them in!'

The doors swung open and into the town streamed many people. Some were old; others were young. Men, women, children, all were fleeing before th scourge. A few were being carried. Falric approached the people who looked to him in awe.

'Captain Falric, thank goodness you are here!' said one. 'We feared we would be overrun!'

His reputation proceeded him, did it? That was strange. Falric was used to being an extension of his Prince's will. He hadn't been regarded as his own entity in some time.

'Excuse me, did any of you eat any grain shipments from Anderhol?' he asked.

'No.' said a man. 'Prince Arthas destroyed the shipments. We don't know why.'

'Excellent.' said Falric, before looking up to Whitemane. 'They aren't infected. Your militia will join us in the defense. Every man and strong lad able to bear arms in this force is to be equipped at the armory. Everyone fights tonight.'

'How do you know they aren't lying?' asked Sally, voice defiant.

'Why would they lie?' asked Falric. 'They don't know anything other than Prince Arthas told them. And since Prince Arthas viewed them as worth saving so do I.'

Whitemane remained silent for a long moment. '…You are indeed wise, Captain Falric. I see why Prince Arthas holds you in such esteem.'

'Hardly. I am merely practical.' said Falric. 'Find these people shelter!'

Hours passed during which more refugees arrived. Those able to fight were given what weapons could be found and assigned to one place or another. More and more of them streamed in, each with their own tales of horrors faced and suffered. Several of them had had very near calls with the undead.

However apparently Tirion Fordring had been part of those sent to aid the refugees. He and Jorad Mace fought several packs of undead sent after them. The people who spoke of Tirion did so with obvious awe. This irritated Falric more than he liked to admit.

And then came the call.

'The undead are coming!' cried a lookout. 'And there are orcs among them!'

Falric cursed and rushed to the wall. He looked and saw orcs, but he noticed many of them shambled rather than ran. Some had vicious wounds stitched up by wire. 'They are not orcs. They are undead raised from orcish corpses.

'Mal'ganis has combined both of my two favorite races. Open fire!'

The undead swarms approached the walls. The elves and dwarves unleashed a withering barrage. Many fell in moments. Yet to Falric's surprise they did not keep on coming, but pulled back out of range.

Then Falric saw their lead. It was a familiar orc. He'd seen Prince Arthas fighting him before. Seen him die. But now his red skin had gone pale. His eyes flamed with unholy light and he mustered his forces. He was speaking with a figure, clad in armor decorated with skulls and his face was hidden by a black hood.

'Prepare yourselves!' said Falric. 'Not one of the enemy must be allowed to make it over the walls! For the Alliance!'

'For the Alliance!' shouted the men.

Tirion Fordring made himself known. The hermit had returned shortly before the undead. Now he was clad in a footman's armor. Though he still held his old wooden hammer. He looked to Falric, who met his gaze.

'These undead are almost entirely orcs.' said Vereesa. 'Surely there must be graveyards in this land.'

'All the graveyards were emptied in the last battle.' said Whitemane. 'What we face here is the last gasp of the scourge.'

And then something happened that shocked Falric. The undead withdrew. As quickly as they had come, they turned tail and fled.

'They are retreating!' said Tirion in shock.

'Undead never retreat.' said Falric.

'They fear us!' cried Whitemane. 'The light has smiled on us this day and struck fear into the hearts of even the dead!'

'No. It didn't.' said Falric. 'Up until now, the undead have had practically limitless forces. But now those numbers are failing them. They timed their assault after Lord Uther had retreated. I do not think their purpose was conquest, but recruitment.

'And I do not think they were expecting to be resisted. We must pursue them at once.'

'We can't leave the village defenseless.' said Vereesa.

'I will go out again.' said Tirion. 'And I will follow with anyone will come with me and see to it that they do not do more harm. With luck, I can force them back to Alterac.'

'You will be hopelessly outnumbered.' noted Falric. 'And should they corner you-you will all die a quick and painful death, and suffer a long and painful unlife. By all means, rid me of your presence.'

Tirion sighed. 'Well, I'm not getting any younger as it is.'

'I will make sure Prince Arthas is notified of your efforts on our behalf.' said Falric.

'My thanks, Captain.' said Tirion with obvious sarcasm.

'Where is Rhonin during all this?' asked Vereesa suddenly. 'He should have been here?'

'Perhaps the Legion has blocked all teleportation from Dalaran.' said Falric. 'Or perhaps the fallback plan Arthas envisioned has gone through. Or your husband may have been killed in battle. Or he may be out of mana. There are many answers, and we have no means to know which one is true.'

'You are a comfort aren't you?' asked Vereesa.

'I am a soldier, not a therapist.' said Falric.

Tirion Fordring and the knights sallied forth after the dead.

* * *

Jubei'thos sped over the road, pausing now and again to direct his minions back into formation. Rivendare was bringing up the read and ensuring none of the undead broke off. The orc warrior felt more like a shepherd than a soldier right now.

He longed to sink his blade into flesh. But the Lich King's will had directed him to draw back his men. As the retreat continued, he finally had a spare moment. Rivendare came riding along then.

'Why did you force us to withdraw?' asked Jubei'thos. 'Had I entered the battle I could have gained victory!'

'Peace, Jubei'thos.' said Rivendare. 'The corpses you gained from the villages you attacked were our goal. It was fortunate that not all of them had burned their dead. Our numbers have swelled, and we may now withdraw to the safety of Alterac.'

'Safety is not the way of the warrior.' said Jubei'thos.

'And yet they need it.' said Rivendare. 'Without a base of operations, no army will stand. The army you have mustered will go a long way to securing Alterac. Now we must be off. We have a meeting with Lord Mannoroth to plan.'

Mannoroth? Jubei'thos was to speak with him? Why? Was not the Legion at odds with the scourge?

Before he could ask there was a horn call. Out of the trees rushed a force of humans. Most of them were poorly equipped, using axes or spears and no real armor. But there was a core among them who wielded the light and wore armor. Under their leadership, they smashed into the rear column.

'For Lordaeron!' screamed a manic voice. 'Purge these undead!'

There were several flashes of light then, and many ghouls fell dead. Yet it was inevitable what would happen. The ghouls of the rear column closed in around them. The lighter armored ones were torn to shreds soon, and the rest looked like they would follow.

Fools. Still, they were brave fools.

'Who are these warriors?' wondered Jubei'thos. 'So few against all of us!'

'A pack of brigands.' said Rivendare. 'Add their corpses to the scourge.'

Then out of the trees came a force of knights. The white haired dpaladin was at their head wielding a hammer. 'Fear not!' he cried. 'You do not stand alone!'

He rushed into the undead and began laying about him. Jubei'thos drew his sword with a smile, but Rivendare gripped him by the shoulder. 'Enough of this. Minions, distract them while we complete our withdrawal.'

Jubei'thos glanced back. While the fighting had been raging Rivendare had continued the retreat. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'What they are fighting is only a fraction of our forces.' said Rivendare. 'But more of the Alliance forces may be on the way. Now is not the time to engage in a decisive battle, my friend. We must bide our time and bring them to battle on our terms.'

The Lich King agreed. Thus they withdrew.

The battle was ended. The rear guard of the undead was destroyed. Tirion had slain many. He was beginning to remember his old strength and was glad to once again ride with knights at his back. As he struck down the last fleeing ghoul, he wheeled round his horse and approached those he had saved.

'Well met.' he said. 'Who are you who has- Taelan?'

It was his son. His son was among them. The boy had grown up to be a man and was now clad in steel armor. In his hand was a mace gripped in two hands. Taelan looked at him in surprise. 'Father… what are you doing here?' he asked. 'Why are you commanding knights?'

'We cannot wait! We must pursue the undead!' roared a man with dark hair clad in priests robes. 'We must drive them before us and crush them all!' His eyes were manic, and he seemed in a frenzy.

'That's bloodlust speaking, not tactics.' said Tirion. 'The undead are much greater in number. They only withdrew because they feared to confront our whole army. We must secure Lordaeron.'

'The paladin is right, Issilian.' said another man, grim-faced and in his forties. 'Our men have been fighting all day. We cannot continue.' He turned to a beautiful red-headed woman wielding a sword and shield. 'Brigitte, my daughter, gather the bodies and set a blaze to them. Keep an eye out for any corpses we can add to the pyre.'

Brigitte nodded. 'It will be as you command, Father.'

The man looked up. 'Tirion Fordring, is it? Where are you and your men based?'

'We come from Hearthglen. We have recently defended it against an undead onslaught.' said Tirion. 'Who are you?'

'We are a band of warriors who have dedicated ourselves to purging the undead from these lands.' said the man. 'I am Ricor Abbendis. I lead these men. We have been using Mardonholde Keep as a base until now, but have ranged far afield of late. The war has gone well.'

'Not well enough.' said Tirion, wondering what the man's standard of measurement was. 'Even as we speak there are greater battles than this waging to the south in Dalaran.'

'I know. I have sensed it.' said Ricor. 'Many of my comrades wanted to seek it out. But we were sidetracked attempting to defend one of the villages in this region. The creeps have become bold with the marring of Lordaeron, and ever the undead are waiting.

'With luck, Alexandros will return soon.'

'Alexandros?' asked Tirion. 'Why do you wait for him?'

'Some weeks ago he brought to the Silver Hand an artifact of unholy energy.' said Ricor. 'We tried to destroy it by channeling the light into it. All the order of the Silver Hand pooled their powers. However, instead of being destroyed, it changed it into an object of supreme holy power.

'Alexandros took it to Khaz Modan to have it forged into a weapon. A weapon which we will use to destroy the undead once and for all!'

'I only hope it will be so.' said Tirion. 'I must return to Hearthglen. Will you come with us? It will benefit our cause to organize a proper resistance.'

Ricor looked to them. 'Yes, I think that would be wise. There will come a new order out of this. Dissent will only slow our ranks. We will go with you to Harthglen.'

Tirion had the feeling that this was the beginning of something. He wasn't sure that it would be a good thing. But he knew that there was no stopping it now.

Then there was a noise like thunder. Tirion looked up and saw the sky burning. The clouds churned. It seemed as if the air itself was screaming in agony. Something was entering this world. And Tirion knew that even if he and all the armies of Lordaeron were to set forth to Dalaran now, they would be too late.

He only prayed that others would not be.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay, this chapter doesn't exactly fit into the main narrative. The reason for this is that I originally had one idea for the way things would go and I realized it wouldn't work. For one thing, Tirion Fordring was just one more paladin in a battle already filled with them. For another, I'd already established that Jubei'thos would be launching raids.

Falric and company are going to Hearthglen, as is Jubei'thos. Since both Falric and Jubei'thos are major characters in this fic I kind of have to show what happens. And then it turns into a complete anticlimax.

Putting Falric and Tirion in the same room together was fun, at least.


	15. The Reckoning

**Chapter Fifteen: The Reckoning**

The last of the demons had been purged from the Violet Citadel. The undead had been routed. But above them, the necromancers were at work raising the bodies of the dead. More demons were spilling forth from the portal in a neverending tide.

Would this never end?

Then Arthas saw Uther. It was like Hearthglen all over again The knowledge seemed to annoy Uther as much as it did Arthas. The Paladin dismounted in the courtyard and approached, looking annoyed rather than proud. No doubt the memory of last time stung him. 'This is the second time I've ridden to your aid. I hope you're not still choking on pride.'

'We have no time for this.' said Arthas. 'The citizens of Dalaran have been transported to Hearthglen. All that remains here are warriors. The city is in ruins, and the demons plan to draw in a yet more powerful demon than ever before.'

'They seem to have done that twice now.' muttered Uther. 'Third time is the charm as they say.' said Arthas.

'We should take a defensive stance.' said Sage Truthbearer. 'Khaz Modan and Stormwind will have their armies here soon.'

'Unfortunately, time is on the Legion's side.' said Arthas. 'Look there.' And he motioned.

High on the hilltop between the two portals from which demons streamed out a rift was forming. It was like the sky had been sliced open. Within it pulsed unholy blue energy which even now was pouring out from it. Within one could see the shadow of something almost human. But not quite. There was a godlike malevolence to the place as well.

'That is…' began Uther, 'what is that?'

'That is Archimonde.' said Antonidas as he made his way forward with Krasus and Rhonin. 'He is trying to force his way through to this plane.'

'And the Dreadlord is gathering all his forces around him.' mused Sylvanas. 'He needs only keep us from the hill.'

'Yet all is not lost.' said Antonidas. 'If we can disrupt the spell then the barrier may well close around Archimonde. He could be killed without us needing to strike a blow.'

'Then let us fall upon the enemy and drive them before us!' said Saiden Dethronan. 'We will shatter their defenses and utterly destroy them!'

'Saiden your fervor is appreciated, but we need more a plan than that.' said Arthas. 'Antonidas, did you ever manage to pierce the teleport wards?'

'No.' said Antonidas. 'But we are very close. And since both Rhonin and Krasus have refused to leave it is still possible.'

'Then I have a plan.' said Arthas. 'I will lead the Silver Hand forward to meet the enemy. I will draw forth all their power and strength. While I am doing that Antonidas and Uther will hand-pick a force of their choosing. They will assault the undead and demons atop the hill.

'Krasus, Rhonin you will remain behind and make plans to teleport the heart of Dalaran. You'll send it into the middle of the enemy base camp.'

'The heart of Dalaran is a nexus of magical energy.' said Rhonin. 'You can't just teleport a nexus! We can exploit it to create a huge explosion, but that's it!'

'Then teleport the explosion.' said Arthas.

Rhonin blinked. '…That actually might work.'

'Good.' said Arthas. 'We need a fallback plan in case Uther is defeated.'

'Lad, I think I should lead the Silver Hand.' said Uther.

'Uther I'm a better tactician, but you've always been the better paladin.' said Arthas. 'You are the greatest paladin who ever lived. If someone is going to be sent into a mission on which all our hopes rest it must be you.

'Besides, Mal'ganis is a subordinate. He'll probably be among the armies.'

'…You've changed since Hearthglen lad.' said Uther. 'I think you've grown up.'

'How fortunate. Everything else is either dying or dead.' said Arthas. 'It's a pity you pressured me into becoming a paladin. I seem to have missed my calling as a mortician.'

Bitter laughter resounded throughout the courtyard. Even Uther cracked a smile. 'That's not funny lad.'

'It's a little funny.' said Rhonin.

'Let's hunt some demons.' said Arthas.

'Lad, there is something else.' said Uther, before drawing something from his horse. 'Take this.'

Arthas looked in shock at what he was offered. 'My hammer.'

'We threw you from our order. But it was we who were in error.' said Uther. 'I am not sure if you made the right decision, the light alone can say that. But I know that I did not. I was too caught up in my own self-image, and I did not act.

'I have failed you.

'Take the hammer. If you wish it, I will try to have you reinstated when all this is over.'

'…Thank you.' said Arthas, feeling his mouth go dry.

He took the hammer. Its's weight was familiar. Yes, this was a weapon he would go to war with. Falric's sword was a great weapon. But it was not his. He'd keep it as a backup.

He looked to his men. 'Prepare to move out! We march!'

* * *

The defenses were erected. The armies were readied. And yet there were still threats to account for — both within and without. First, there was Kel'thuzad. He was more powerful than had been planned. If left to his own devices on the hilltop could interfere with the entrance of Lord Archimonde. That was to be prevented at all costs.

Second, there was Mal'ganis. Tichondrius had regarded him as a threat to his dominion for some years now. The young Dreadlord had too many creative ideas for his liking and was too emotional. Best to pin the whole affair on him.

Mal'ganis made his appearance, and Tichondrius looked to him, fingering his sword. 'Impeccable timing, Mal'ganis. Our defenses have been erected, and they are now almost impregnable. With Kazzak and his warriors holding the hill nothing will break through. I expect the humans will be making plans to flee soon.'

'You underestimate them at your peril, Tichondrius.' said Mal'ganis. 'The humans will never surrender.'

As if on cue there were horn calls from the city. Tichondrius looked there and saw the knights of Lordaeron mustering. They would soon sally forth and attack.

'…Irritating.' said Tichondrius. 'Mal'ganis you will go forth and face them with the assembled hosts of the scourge. I will protect the summoning circle myself.'

'As always.' said Mal'ganis.

'Kel'thuzad you will go with him.' said Tichondrius.

'As you command.' said Kel'thuzad.

'Kel'thuzad might be of use summoning more demons.' said Mal'ganis.

'He also might interfere with the ritual.' said Tichondrius. 'This is a perfect chance for the Lich King to doublecross our efforts. Not so much as a single ghoul must be on this hilltop.' He looked to the Captain of the Doomguards. 'Kazzak you will remain here.'

'This waiting bores me.' snapped Kazzak. 'Am I a warrior? Or a spear carrier?'

'You are a guard.' said Tichondrius. 'Now guard Lord Archimonde.'

'As you command.' said Kazzak.

Kazzak wasn't happy. Tichondrius didn't particularly care. The mission was too important to allow to continue like this.

* * *

It was almost time. The knights were assembled. The troops were readied. Arthas mounted his horse. As he did so, he felt the hard gaze of Sage Truthbearer on him. He looked to the white-haired man in irritation. 'Yes?'

'You have no right to take the place of Uther on the battlefield.' said Sage. 'Your actions at Stratholme broke Uther's heart. You stripped him of his honor, by tossing yours to the wind.'

'I've heard it before. I'm not asking for forgiveness.' said Arthas. 'Merely that we work together to stop the enemy of all who live.'

'I will follow your orders.' said Sage. 'But I shall do it for Uther. Not for you.'

A hand was put to Arthas shoulder. He looked up to see Saiden Dethronan looking at him. 'I am glad to have you with us. We have need of more servants of the light like yourself.'

At that moment Sylvanas appeared. She was clad in mail and held a sword and shield in place her usual bow and arrow. 'Prince Arthas I should like to join you in the assault. I've spent every arrow I have.

'Can you ride, Sylvanas?' asked Arthas.

'Yes.' said Sylvanas. 'Alleria taught me when we were children. We used to keep horses in our home before the orcs raided it. Lirath used to love them.'

'Lirath?' asked Arthas.

'My little brother.' said Sylvanas. 'He was killed in the second war.'

'I'm sorry.' said Arthas.

'I've come to terms with it. Grief comes and goes.' said Sylvanas. 'All you can do is move forward.'

Arthas could have let it drop there. But somehow he felt he had to go further. '…When this is over, milady. I should like to see you again in better times.'

'I suppose we'll first have to win the battle.' said Sylvanas as a horse was brought to her. 'Still, it might be nice to have company. The estate has been empty since Vereesa moved to Dalaran.'

'I'll hope for it.' said Arthas.

Then he drew his sword and rode before the assembled soldiers. They were tired from months of the endless war. Scared of the monsters which mustered above them. In no mood for any kind of flowery speech. So he didn't give them one.

'Dalaran is ruined.' Arthas said. 'It's people have fled or been slain by the tides of darkness. The city is shattered. The land itself has been twisted and deformed into a monstrosity beyond redemption. There is nothing left for us to save.

'Only the enemy, Mal'ganis remains. He and the Burning Legion he serves.

'In utter darkness. In utter despair. We will rise against the enemies of the light. Not even in this infernal land will we allow a Dreadlord to live.

'Not today.'

He unslung his hammer and raised it. There was a cry of anger from the men. Anger would keep them alive. Arthas led them through the gate, and they assembled into a line as they rushed toward the undead.

The undead rushed down to meet them. Yet the paladins channeled their light as one, and the front ranks shrieked in agony. They were burnt away. Those behind them buckled and retreated, and then the battle was joined.

Arthas hewed about him with his hammer. He struck down everything that stood against him. He saw Sylvanas slashing down several ghouls. Saiden slew and abomination while Sage Truthbearer destroyed a row of ghouls. Behind them came the infantry who joined the battle. Then came the dwarven riflemen who had fixed bayonets and joined the fray.

Then came the Dreadlords. They rushed at them in great numbers and at their head was Mal'ganis. A wave of dark magic flowed over the Alliance forces. Many were killed, and the light of the paladins was matched by the darkness of the Dreadlords. Several footmen was torn to shreds by a swarm of ghouls. And abomination cut a knight from their horses, only to lose a leg to Sylvanas.

Arthas saw the demon as he approached and the demon saw him. Spurring his horse forward Arthas charged the lines. A lesser Dreadlord rushed at him and had its head bashed off. A doomguard swung his sword, only to have it broken and his skull bashed in.

Whatever came next. Whatever happened in this battle. Arthas would kill Mal'ganis. He swung his hammer and crushed the spine of a fel hound. Then with another sweep, he destroyed a row of undead and sent a wave of light to scorch an abomination.

* * *

As usual, the Paladins were giving far better than they got. Yet this time the Dreadlords were here in force. Mal'ganis was not holding his staff today. Instead, he held a spear which he used to run through a knight and horse with the same thrust. Raising a claw, he sent half a dozen alliance soldiers into an unnatural sleep. They would never awaken. Undead killed them shortly.

Then he nearly lost his head to a hammer. He ducked under it and warded off several blows. A brown haired paladin was striking at him.

'Vile demon!' roared the paladin. 'You are not fit enough to walk beneath the sun! Why the light abides you abominations is beyond me!'

Mal'ganis turned the hammer. Then he drove the point of his spear through the fools breastplate and out the other end. The paladin gasped in agony. 'We Dreadlords have a similar viewpoint on the mortal races.' said Mal'ganis. 'The difference is that we are the stronger!'

He drew out the spear and slashed the man's throat with the tip.

Arthas was fighting his way toward Mal'ganis now. The Prince was wielding his hammer and striking down undead by the dozen every moment. Yet before Mal'ganis could go after him he found his way barred by yet another paladin. Hammer and spear met as light and darkness contested.

'Light have mercy on you.' said the paladin 'Your plague has broken this land. You have stripped the people of their light and driven many good men to madness. You deserve a gruesome death, Dreadlord.'

'An artist is always pleased to know his work is appreciated.' said Mal'ganis.

Then with a final surge of darkness, he overwhelmed the paladin's defenses. He sent him falling back screaming. Before he could finish him ,Arthas leaped over the fray in his horse and swung with his hammer. Mal'ganis parried the blow and stepped backward as Arthas dismounted smoothly.

'Mal'ganis.' said the Prince.

'And so we meet in battle at last, young Prince.' said Mal'ganis. 'This is where we settle the score between us. I must thank you for delivering the full might of Lordaeron into my hands.'

'It will be small comfort to you after I cut them off.' said Arthas.

Mal'ganis smiled. He felt like someone who had just met an old friend he had thought dead. It was a strange feeling. 'As always your words are brave. But we are Legion. You cannot stand against us. Not without Frostmourne.'

'The only weapon I need is in my hand.' said Arthas.

Spear and hammer met. Darkness met light and both were repulsed. Again they met and again neither was the stronger. Mal'ganis unleashed a flurry of jabs with his spear. Arthas parried them, before striking the Dreadlord with the haft of his weapon. Mal'ganis backed off and sent forth magic to seize his enemies mind.

Arthas faltered as a spell of sleep fell over him, but the light was with him and he shook it off. A shield appeared around him and he surged forward to attack. Mal'ganis dodged and weaved, hardly able to keep up with the strikes.

And yet the Dreadlord found he was not angry. Not furious as he had been when the Book of Medivh had been marred. This was it. This was the culmination of his battle against the Prince of Lordaeron. Their wills and minds and bodies had been pitted against each other for months now.

It had been glorious. To have such an opponent. Mal'ganis wished that they could fight like this forever. But it was not to be.

The shield faded. Mal'ganis surged at Arthas and drove him back with a flurry of blows. The Prince lost his footing and fell. Mal'ganis stabbed at him, but his spear was deflected. Reaching out with a claw Mal'ganis gripped him by the throat. 'The Dark Lord underestimated you, Paladin. You were far more powerful than any of us imagined. In our service, you could have in time become the greatest of His subjects. But the time for that has passed.

'This is where our rivalry ends, boy. Tearing each other to shreds at the end of the world. With only death to sing the tale of your doom.'

He began to sink his claws in. This was it.

'Arthas!' cried a voice.

Mal'ganis looked up in time to seek a blade coming at him. He ducked and was raked across the scalp by the sword. Sylvanas Windrunner landed and came at him with the sword. How dare this woman interfere!

He turned her blade and struck her across the face. She fell but righted herself, drawing a knife to stab it into his leg. Savagely kicking her, Mal'ganis threw her aside. As she fell, he stabbed at her heart.

Yet the spear never connected. Arthas interposed himself. His stomach caught the spear. It surprised Mal'ganis. There was the Prince, taking the spear for another. Why would he do that? Even if he had enjoyed her company, he would not be able to do so while dead.

'Strange.' mused Mal'ganis. 'That a creature should lay down its life for another is a mystery I have never understood. Yet you paladins do it all the time.'

Arthas gasped as he clutched the blade inside him. He had lost his grip on his hammer. '…You could never understand them.'

'Nor do I wish to.' mused Mal'ganis. 'It is strange, is it not? I am almost regretful that this should end. After so formidable an opponent as yourself, any other victory would seem in comparison but an insignificant bauble presented to a King with many treasures.' He twisted the spear in Arthas' gut. 'You would have made a fine death knight. But you made your choice. You stood against the Legion, against all odds and warnings. Now you will pay the price for your defiance. And all will die as it was fated to happen before the stars were born.

'This land is already dead.'

'…The Lordaeron I know is gone. It is finished.' murmured Arthas. And then he blazed with light. Light so bright it burned Mal'ganis eyes and caused him to reel back. 'But it lives on! It lives on in the hearts and minds of all who stand against the darkness! And so long as there is one man willing to give his life for another the light will never fail! The heart of the land will not abide this blight forever! As I have stood against you, so will those after you!

'Each one defying the wicked and working in their own way to a brighter future! 'The spark in the hearts of all living things will form together to create an inferno of hope! One that will pierce through the darkness of mere being and create a perfect world! A world only greater for your efforts to mar it!

'And that flame will never be snuffed out! _**IT WILL ENDURE FOREVER!'**_

Mal'ganis spear was dragged out. A blade was drawn and before Mal'ganis could move it was driven upwards. The Dreadlord felt it pierce his armor. Felt it break through his skin and bone. The sword was driven into his heart.

He collapsed to his knees. Arthas dragged out the spear within him and the flesh began to heal. Mal'ganis looked at his own wound. His death wound. He was dying.'Impossible… this cannot be…'

'All things are possible for those who stand in the light.' said Arthas.

The blade was drawn out and the last thing Mal'ganis saw was the gleam of the Prince's sword as it was swung at his neck.

* * *

Arthas had done what he had set out to. Mal'ganis was dead. The Dreadlords body lay headless and bleeding at his feet. There was no joy though. He was no happier. He merely felt empty. Empty, but satisfied that he had done his duty. The light which had burned within him moments ago had faded away. He looked to Sylvanas and offered her a hand. She took it and he helped her up.

'Are you alright milady?' asked Arthas.

'Fine.' said Sylvanas. 'I'll be fine.'

'I'm so tired.' said Arthas.

The battle around them was still raging. Demons were everywhere. With the deaths of so many paladins, things were turning against them. And then there was a horn call. Arthas looked up and saw in the distance the banners of Khaz Modan and Stormwind. The demons looked up in fear and reformed.

'For Khaz Modan!' cried a familiar voice.

'For Stormwind!' cried another familiar voice.

Muradin Bronzebeard charged into battle. He tore through the ranks of the demons like a hot knife through butter. His skin was like stone. He was like a moving mountain. He crushed everything that stood against him like an avalanche. Beside him was King Varian Wrynn. He wielded two swords to cleave a path through the assembled demons. Varian beheaded two fel hounds, drove his sword through the heart of a doomguard.

Arthas sheathed his sword, retrieved his hammer and raised it. 'For Lordaeron!'

'For Quel'thalas!' cried Sylvanas.

They charged into the fray to meet their comrades. Now the battle began anew. And this time victory would be theirs!

It was a chaotic melee now below. There were no battle lines. No orders were given or received. Just creatures killing other creatures. And where the undead during all of this? Somehow Kel'thuzad had covertly drawn back the undead after the first clash. Now the Lich was only sitting there. He was doing nothing. He had been gathering most of his forces just outside of the battle this entire time. What was the fool doing?!

It didn't matter.

'Kazzak take your armies and go to aid the rest.' said Tichondrius. 'Route the Alliance then draw them back up here for a final stand.'

'What of the portal?' asked Kazzak.

'I'll defend it.' said Tichondrius. 'Go, now!'

All he could do not was defend this place with his life. And hope that Kazzak might turn the tide. Yet they would not take Tichondrius easily.

The battle below was turning in their favor. But the unholy presence of Archimonde was only strengthening. The air seemed to tremble with his coming and Uther did not like the feeling. Yet fortune had not abandoned them wholly. The demons guarding the portals now descended to fight with the armies of the Alliance. He looked to Antonidas. 'They've abandoned the portal. This is our chance!'

'Good.' said Antonidas. 'Now we must try to break the teleport wards first and… what?'

'What is it?' asked Uther.

'Kel'thuzad has removed the teleport wards which were keeping us back.' said Antonidas. 'It seems he has betrayed his master.'

'We'll discuss his motives later.' said Uther. 'Send us, now!'

Uther prayed that they were not too late. Yet whatever demon he would find waiting for him on that hill, it would not find his heart lacking.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Well, that concludes the rivalry between Mal'ganis and Arthas I guess. Next up, Uther Vs .Tichondrius. Place yer bets folks. Place yer bets.

On a separate note, the decision to kill off Mal'ganis was a hard one. He was a great nemesis for Arthas. However, with the presence of Tichondrius and Mannoroth, he was fading into obscurity. I had the idea that he could have survived the battle and spent time sewing discord. But I didn't want him to become a Naraku type of villain. The sort who just stays and stays without bringing anything new to the table. Until the viewers want him dead not because of anything he had done, but because they are just sick of him.

The deciding factor was the realization that Arthas was likely to get a lot stronger soon. When that happened Mal'ganis would not be able to put up a fight. So if I was going to have a climactic showdown between them, it had to be now.


	16. The Culmination of History

**Chapter Sixteen: The Culmination of History**

The Violet Citadel was empty. A bitter silence had fallen over the abandoned halls. Once there had been students and researchers and hopefuls of all kinds. Now there was no one. And even if all went well it did not seem likely there would be anyone ever again. Krasus and Rhonin went about their business. They experimented, read and tried to come up with a solution. The battle had been raging for hours, and both were conscious that they did not have a lot of time.

'This is hard. Teleporting magical energy directly simply isn't practical.' said Rhonin, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. 'The incantation would be too unstable.'

'We could create a portal face Archimonde.' suggested Krasus. 'Then we could use shields to direct the spell fully into it.'

'No.' said Rhonin. 'The power emerging from the nexus is too great for that. This is much hard than it seems.'

'It helps that nobody has ever thought to do anything like this.' muttered Krasus.

'…What if we created a portal on every side of the nexus when it exploded.' asked Rhonin. 'We could then direct those portals toward Archimonde.'

'I have trouble creating one portal.' said Krasus. 'How are we supposed to create dozens of them? And in a very precise location at that.'

'Right, good point.' said Rhonin. 'We won't have enough power to maintain them. Do you think we should just join the away team?'

'No, if Uther and Antonidas can't handle it we won't be able to do much.' said Krasus. 'We have a job to do.'

'Uh, could we maybe create a portal system in advance that activates as soon as the nexus detonates?' suggested Rhonin.

'That might work.' said Krasus. 'Let's try for it. The problem is that we have no means of picking a target it.'

'Let's figure that out later.' said Rhonin.

'Agreed.' said Krasus. 'I just pray that Antonidas and Uther will succeed. I don't want Dalaran to die.' Dalaran? Die? The idea was horrible. Rhonin realized that Dalaran was almost like a living creature. You could sense it when you were within. The magic was everywhere. In every wall, every terrace, every plant in the garden. Now they were going to sacrifice. Sacrifice everything in the desperate hope that it might save their world.

'Do,' Rhonin, 'do you think things will ever go back the way they were?'

Krasus shook his head. 'No. I wish they would. I wish my wife and I could retire. To pass on our titles to children, confident that their future is secure. But the war never ends. Orcs, demons, undead, there is always a new evil.

'I want peace Rhonin.'

There was silence.

'I should have gone.' said Rhonin suddenly. 'I'm nobody. I... what I accomplished was more dumb luck than anything else. I was just a puppet for Deathwing and you and the goblin.'

'You're still young though.' said Krasus .'You can grow. Antonidas is old. And doesn't expect to come back. I suppose it is better for the old to die than the young.'

'What about you?' asked Rhonin. 'You're young for an elf aren't you?'

'Positively ancient.' laughed Krasus. 'I haven't grown in years. I think... I think my race is fading. I wish I could stop it. I wish the world could be beautiful and green. That people didn't have to kill each other as they do. I wish... for a lot of things.

'But we have no time for this. We have a demon to kill. Let's get to it.'

* * *

Alexandros Mograine was at the front of the knights of Stormwind. They crashed into the Legion's ranks. Wielding the Ashbringer Alexandros cleaved down three undead. Raising his hand, he burned many more to ashes in moments. He shattered the weapon of a doomguard and cut its head from its shoulders as the battle raged.

'Alexandros!' called a familiar voice. 'Alexandros to me!'

Alexandros looked up from striking down a fel hound. He saw Saiden Dethronan laying about him with his hammer. Many undead and demons were dead around him, and his white hair was blowing around him. Alexandros rushed to him and met him on the field. Back to back, they carved apart every foul creature that approached. At last, none dared approach them.

'Saiden! You've done well for yourself!' Alexandros laughed.'

'Not as well as you.' noted Saiden with a rare smile. 'Is that the weapon?' 'Yes.' said Alexandros. 'The Ashbringer. Where is Lord Uther, I would give it to him?'

'He isn't here.' said Saiden. 'You'd best use it yourself and give it to him later. Can you use it?'

'I'll manage.' said Alexandros.

'Father!' said a voice.

Renault rushed out of the fray. His hammer was bloodied in his hand, and he was cut in several places as he approached. Saiden healed him. 'Young Renault, I am pleased you have not lost your touch.'

'It is only thanks to you guidance, Saiden.' said Renault. 'Come Father, let's carve a path to victory!'

'Renault,' said Saiden, 'You and I should aid Prince Arthas. He is hard pressed. Alexandros, you should defend King Varian. It would be a grievous blow if another of the Wrynn line were killed.'

'Very well.' said Alexandros.

'For the light!' They cried as one. Then they went their separate ways.

Alexandros cleaved one undead down after another. The Ashbringer glowed brighter and brighter as he hewed through everything. The sword seemed made for this battle. For this day. Nothing could stand against him as he cut his way toward Varian.

There was the King now. He was fighting at the front, wielding his two swords with great skill. Many undead had fallen to him, and also two demons. His men rallied around their King as he sought to cut his way to where Arthas was fighting.

And Arthas was fighting well. He and an elven maiden were laying about them with hammer and sword. None could stand before them.

Then came a demon larger than the others. He flew over the battlefield and landed with a shockwave. It threw the soldiers around him from their feet. In his hand was whip of flame which he cracked across the battlefield. All who were struck by it were consumed in fire and burned away. Behind him came hundreds of doomguards and many lesser demons. They joined the fray with cries of bloodlust and joy. The Alliance yielded ground beneath their onslaught. Many brave men died in moments.

'Forward!' roared the demon, his voice like an avalanche. 'For Lord Archimonde! Let none survive!'

'Take this ya bastard!' came the retort.

A hammer spun through the air and struck the demon in the chest. He stepped back with a grunt as the hammer returned to Muradin Bronzebeard. The dwarf rushed before the demon, carving a path through his minions to took a stance. Alexandros fought to reach him. 'A dwarf. Come then, little creature.' said the demon. 'Let us see how well you fair against the might of Kazzak.'

'For Khaz Modan!' roared Muradin.

The Muradin began to grow so that he looked more like a living mountain than a dwarf. His axe broke Kazzak's whip; his hammer clashed with the demon's sword. Back and forth they fought, neither able to overcome the other. Kazzak laughed as he dueled his enemy until at last they separated.

'You are skilled with weapons.' said Kazzak. 'But I am a sorcerer as well.'

Raising a hand, he cast a spell. Muradin reeled back screaming to the ground. Kazzak pressed his advantage to strike him down. Alexandros fought harder, but he knew he would be too late.

'Kazzak! Kazzak!' cried Varian, appearing from the fray. 'Come and face the King of Stormwind! Face me and die!' What was that fool doing?

'Stormwind?' asked Kazzak. 'Didn't I destroy that Kingdom a few decades ago?'

'You failed. It is rebuilt.' said Varian. 'And now all the men of Stormwind who died by your hand will be avenged. We will be avenged!'

'Revenge?!' laughed Kazzak. 'You? I am Kazzak! I have laid low whole nations! The gates of your vaunted city were but splinters before my might! Your great champion Lothar fled before me, and he was greater than you! Then my power paled to what it is now! I am older and stronger now! Strong and cunning!

'Why should I fear you, King of Stormwind? A spoiled child, protected first by his armies, then championed by other nations. You are no great King arising in might. You are but a puppet of Lordaeron. A powerless pawn given the scraps of a broken Kingdom out of pity without once having to fight for it.

'You are of no consequence.'

Varian cried out in anger and charged. But Kazzak brought down his sword with one hand. Varian raised his swords to block the blow, but was thrown from his feet and rolled in the dirt. He tried to rise as Kazzak loomed over him. Dark magic poured onto the King, who was rooted in place, unable to rise.

'And now you will die.' said the demonlord.

He brought down his sword, but Alexandros brought free of the combat and got between them. He caught the blade on the Ashbringer, and their swords rang with the impact. Kazzak stepped back a pace.

'Alexandros…' said Varian.

'Back demon!' cried Alexandros. 'Your kind will not claim another King of Stormwind today!'

'I wasn't aware that was an accomplishment.' mused Kazzak.

'Feel the might of Mograine!' cried Alexandros.

He charged and met Kazzak in a series of blows. The demonlord deflected each other with a bemused expression on his face. 'I have no idea who this Mograine is. Is it you? Or the sword your wielding.'

'Me, I am Mograine.' said Alexandros as there came a pause in the fighting.

'Oh I see.' said Kazzak. 'You see I had no idea who you were. Is the Mograine family a line of Kings?'

'No.' said Alexandros, feeling more irritated by the moment.

'Are you one of the most powerful people here without that sword?' asked Kazzak.

'…No.' growled Alexandros.

'Then why is the might of Mograine any more significant than that random footman I bisected on my way here?' laughed Kazzak. 'I don't know the name, I don't see any reason to learn the name, and frankly, I think you are wasting my time.'

'And yet we are evenly matched.' noted Alexandros.

'In martial prowess you are passable.' conceded Kazzak. 'But you underestimate my power!' Once more a whip of flame was in his hand. He struck it with it, and Alexandros parried the blow. Yet it was only the first, and soon the paladin was first to yield ground beneath the flurry. Tripping, he fell to one knee, and the blade was jarred in his hands. Kazzak raised his blade to finish him.

'But Muradin arrived and slammed the ground with his hammer. It shook Kazzak's footing, and he withdrew.'

'Hold where ya are, demon.' said Muradin. 'You'll not be killing anyone else today.'

'I find that unlikely.' mused Kazzak.

'Lord Muradin, your timing could not be better.' said Alexandros. 'This demons power is immense. We must overcome him somehow.' Varian rose behind them blades now in hand. Alexandros looked back. 'King Varian you should withdraw.'

'No, I will stand with you!' said Varian.

'Listen to me, King Varian.' said Alexandros. 'My purpose is to do battle with the enemies of darkness. Yours is to lead your people. My Kingdom will not lament me as it will you. You must not do battle with this creature. You lack the experience.'

'By all means,' said Kazzak, 'run back home little princess.'

A look of fury passed over Varian's face, but Muradin blocked him as he marched forward.

'Don't listen to him.' said Muradin. 'Rally yer men. Lead them in battle. We'll take care of this guy.'

'…I understand.' said Varian.

He turned and rushed into the fray to hack his way through the undead and lesser demons. Alexandros and Muradin rushed at Kazzak, and the demonlord rushed to meet them. Laughing.

* * *

Sylvanas and Arthas had carved a swath through the forces of darkness. Unfortunately, there were more where that came from. Arthas knocked off the head of another Dreadlord, what was this, five now? And Sylvanas ran through another doomguard.

'Sixty-three doomguards.' said Sylvanas.

'I have seventy.' said Arthas. 'How many demons could there be beyond that portal?'

'Thousands.' said Sylvanas. 'Millions. Who knows?'

'Arthas!' called a familiar voice.

Arthas looked up to see Varian fighting his way through the fray. The King of Stormwind was bowled over by a fel hound. Struggling with it, the King shoved it aside and drove a sword into its throat. Then he rose and ran to him.

'Varian,' said Arthas, 'where have you been? And anyway I thought you'd be sending Garithos.'

'I…' Varian flinched. 'I thought I'd best come myself. Garithos is with the rear guard in Southshore. I didn't want to leave it undefended.'

'I'm not complaining.' said Arthas. 'We're trying to cut a path up to the hill above. Uther should be launching his assault soon.'

'What assault?' asked Varian.

'It's too long a story to explain now.' said Arthas. 'I'm commanding the Silver Hand in his absence. For now, we'll have to deal with these.' He paused. The King seemed to be spacing out. 'Now is not a good time to be staring into space, Varian.'

'It's nothing, I'm fine.' said Varian.

A horde of undead rushed at them. Arthas spun his hammer and led the charge into their ranks. Varian cut down three ghouls. Arthas sent a wave that destroyed ten. Sylvanas dodged and weaved through their ranks and slew five. Varian fought with greater fury, cutting the leg from an abomination and beheading it. Arthas struck down an abomination with one blow. He killed another with the light, then leaped into the air to cave in the skull of a doomguard. A line of necromancers brought forth skeletons, only to be cut down by Sylvanas.

Further and further they fought toward the hill. And nothing could withstand them.

'Arthas! Arthas! Arthas! Arthas! Arthas!' cried the men.

The sound of their voices grew louder and louder into a neverending chant as Arthas hewed about him. The three of them decimated every undead and demon that came there way. And Varian fell further and further behind. It was strange. When they had been boys, Varian was always the better one. He'd been taught to fight before Arthas had even begun his instruction. He'd been the prodigy, the child genius. Arthas had always been the more thoughtful one. The one who considered things before acting.

Now he could hardly keep up. The King was panting, struggling to continue. While Arthas and Sylvanas hewed down one enemy after another. When had Arthas gotten so much better than his friend?

* * *

The chanting of the human Prince's name reached Tichondrius. He stiffened in a fury He saw them drawing nearer and nearer by the minute. All the hosts of the undead could not stop him. At this rate, Tichondrius would have to fight him.

The Dreadlord tested the weight of his sword. This sword had won him many battles. He hoped it would win him this one.

Then there was a flash of blue and the Alliance was here. And at their head was Uther Lightbringer, hammer in hand.

'For the light!' cried Uther.

On came the Alliance. Tichondrius raised his sword and rushed forward with a feral roar. His demons ran with him. His blade met the paladin's hammer and as they clashed the air around them warped with the force of the blow. They drew back their weapons and struck again.

Tichondrius stepped back and summoned many infernals into the world. Uther summoned the light to heal his wounded warriors. A wizard summoned three water elementals and sent waves of ice against the defenders.

'Keep them away from the summoning circle!' roared Tichondrius, summoning fire to scorch many soldiers dead. 'Don't let them get past us! Fight! Kill maim! Let none survive!'

Then he brought down his sword and clashed with Uther again. 'So, you must be the demon in charge of this scourge. Tichondrius.' said Uther.

'And you the Grandmaster of the Paladin order. Uther Lightbringer.' said Tichondrius. 'You'll find that no other demon is my equal.'

'We'll see.' said Uther.

A flurry of blows ensued. Tichondrius slashed and hacked with more rage and fury than he'd felt in centuries. The paladin kept up and their every blow sent waves of dark and light flowing around them. 'None of you will pass me!' roared Tichondrius, voice hoarse. 'I am the chosen of Lord Archimonde! I will slaughter every mortal that steps on this hill! None shall survive!'

'Your composure is slipping demon. What is wrong?' asked Uther. 'Do you sense the tides of fate turning against you? Are you afraid?'

'I fear nothing.' said Tichondrius. 'NOTHING!'

'So proclaimed the orcs boldly and with confidence.' said Uther. 'And they fell. As you will.'

'I am no orc!' screamed Tichondrius as he went at the paladin again. 'I am the Lord of the Nathrezim! The mightiest of all Dreadlords!' Uther yielded ground beneath his onslaught as the fray continued. 'I have burnt whole worlds beneath my feet! None save Lord Archimonde and Kil'jaden may command me! The orcs were but my pawn!' 'So you say.' Uther halted him. 'But I do not see as much difference as you claim. I see a being, consumed in pride and malice proclaimings itself greater. I've seen many like you in my life. More than you could imagine. I hate you no more than I hated Gul'dan before you.'

'How dare you?!' said Tichondrius. 'How dare you?! You will die here! And when your world is but ashes, you will be forgotten! Like billions before you!'

'And others will take my place like billions before.' cried Uther. 'For untold ages, two powers have stood against the encroaching darkness. First the guardians of this world. Dragons, wizards, eternals. These have often failed.

'Yet the other power does not lie in spells or swords.' It resides in the heart of every mortal creature that has ever made a choice. It is the voice in the mind of every creature urging them to do what is right, not what is easy. It is the hard choice that every good person must make.

'There is no greater power in the universe than what I speak of. Against it, tyrants and demigods cannot stand! For though they may triumph for a day against its agents, against the eternal light there can be no victory!'

The duel was drawing near the very edge of the hill. Uther was on the defensive. He could not longer back away. A few more steps and he would be retreating downhill. Nothing else mattered now. Not Archimonde, not the battle, not this miserable world. Nothing but Uther dying. Dying by Tichondrius hand!

'I'll tear you apart!'

With a final blow, Tichondrius struck Uther's hammer. He split the haft in two, but his sword shattered into a thousand pieces. Beyond all words, Tichondrius fell upon Uther with outstretched claws. The two of them tumbled down the hill. fighting, kicking and strangling with bare hands. The light scorched Tichondrius, but flames burned Uther's flesh.

They reached the bottom and Tichondrius was on Uther. He had him by the throat, or nearly so. His claws were drawing nearer now. Ever so nearer. Then with a surge of strength, Uther shoved his hands to one side and set a hand to Tichondrius' chest.

'Light curse you.' said Uther.

Tichondrius screamed as he was consumed by the light.

The battle was over but at a terrible cost. Every one of those who Uther and Antonidas had brought with them were now dead. Uther and the demon were fighting at the base of the hill. Now only Antonidas was here. But the demons were all dead.

The old man had lost his horse. But he still lived. He limped toward the Book of Medivh lying opened on a pedestal. The rift between the worlds was widening. He could feel Archimonde coming. Any moment now he would enter.

But Antonidas could stop him. Antonidas would stop him.

He flipped through the pages of the book as the presence grew nearer. He could feel him in his mind, whispering. It was all he could do to begin to recite the incantation. But he managed it. With parched lips and bloodied fingers, he spoke the word of power. He began to mend the barrier between worlds.

He had it.

The rift was closing. Closing with Archimonde within. Soon the demonlord would be trapped. Not dead but trapped. In time he might escape, but they would have time to prepare a countermeasure. Time. He needed time.

The barrier shut.

And then the seams freshly mended burst open and Antonidas was consumed in blue fire.

It had been the nearest thing Archimonde had ever faced. But he'd managed to break through. He stepped out onto the hilltop and surveyed his armies at war. Yet as he made himself known all looked up. The faces of the Alliance went pale. Many screamed and fled in terror, throwing down their arms as they did. Others despaired, but fought on.

The demons took to heart. For they knew that this was the hour of their victory.

 _ **'TREMBLE MORTALS AND DESPAIR!'**_ cried Archimonde. _ **'DOOM HAS COME TO THIS WORLD!'**_

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay, let me just get something clear. Varian's treatment in this battle was not planned. I had intended for him to kill Kazzak. The problem is that Kazzak is stated to be the near equal of Mannoroth. And Mannoroth is nearly on Cenarius' level. Cenarius is considered a threat by freaking Archimonde.

Varian in this version doesn't have any of the accomplishments he does in canon. He hasn't fought in gladiator games. The extent of his combat experience is a couple of skirmishes. And possibly having to put down some minor rebellions. The books played him up as a cool big brother figure to Arthas. But that dynamic doesn't hold water now. Arthas has fought nightmares Varian hasn't even dreamed of.

So after going to all the trouble to set Kazzak up as an enemy for Varian to kill, Varian didn't stand a chance. Fortunately, I was having trouble fitting Alexandros into the final battle. Having him rescue Varian fits in nicely.

Also Uther Vs. Tichondrius. I've wanted to see this fight for a long time since Tichondrius is in some ways Uther's evil counterpart. Both of them are superior officers to Arthas. Both of whom who he conflicts with and eventually usurps and kills. Though I've always suspected Arthas hated Tichondrius more than Uther.


	17. The Lightbringer

**Chapter Seventeen: The Lightbringer**

Archimonde walked among the mortal realm. Wherever he walked the remaining plants withered and died. Across the world, creatures looked up and were beset with a nameless terror. Animals hid in their dens. Trees bent away from the light. The tides receded. And the forces of the Alliance melted away. More and more took flight, fleeing from the demons. Others formed knots to defend themselves against the scourge and demonic threat. King Varian could be seen rallying his forces, and Prince Arthas was with him.

Together they formed a line that held the enemy at bay. Elsewhere Muradin and Alexandros kept Kazzak and the bulk of his forces occupied.

So was unfolding the stalemate. Yet it was not to last. With a wave of his hand, Archimonde summoned yet more demons into the world to batter down the defenders. Saiden Dethronan rushed at the demon with a battlecry and with him went a knot of knights. They fought their way through the demons at great cost.

Archimonde motioned with a finger, and a bolt of energy struck Dethronan. The man screamed and fell back to the ground, and did not move. He joined the ranks of so many paladins who had fallen in the field of battle. His forces scattered and many were hunted down.

So the great battle of their time began its final act. Kel'thuzad looked upon the unfolding misery with some regret. Yes, they were his enemies, but if all went as hoped, then their bodies would likely be destroyed. They would not be raised as mighty warriors for the undead. All that they could have done and been would be washed away.

Like so many corpses burned in a pile.

No matter. He had other business. The Lich turned from the battle and made his way across the corpse strew hilltop. As he walked, he raised the bodies of those who had fallen as new undead. Finally, he came to what he had sought. The Book of Medivh lay where it was. A great source of knowledge if ever there was one. Taking it in his clawed hands, he tucked it away in his pack.

Then he looked to the body of Lord Antonidas. Once his friend. Then his enemy. Now dead. 'Lord Antonidas. You rushed to stop Archimonde, even knowing it would lead to your death. You nearly succeeded. Though we were enemies, I still hold you in the highest respect.' He raised a hand and cast a spell. 'Arise, Archmage of the Kirin Tor. The power which you once opposed has need of you.'

Antonidas' eyes opened as he arose. They flared with an unholy light. His skin went pale, and he arose to look at Kel'thuzad, his will belonging to the Lich King. 'I return. All who would oppose the Lich King shall feel my powers unleashed against them.' His eyes narrowed, and there was some semblance of his old self rising to the surface. 'Kel'thuzad, you have brought me back.''

Kel'thuzad nodded. 'Professional courtesy would have led me to let your bones lie. However, the need of the scourge is dire.'

'What are you planning, Lich?' asked Antonidas. 'Would you have us put this world to the flame by the Legion's will?'

'On the contrary. Our interests, for the moment, align with those of your former compatriots.' said Kel'thuzad, looking to the battle. 'We do not desire Archimonde to gain victory. Our hope is for the Lich King to be free of the Legion and able to enact his will.

'And for that, I will need your spells. Now come, we have much work to do.'

* * *

Kazzak was having the time of his life. Whenever he came near to striking down either the dwarf or the man the other would come in and force him back. They fought together with great ease and around them, the music of war resounded. Archimonde was on the move, and the battle was already won.

'Well, this does provide some entertainment.' laughed Kazzak. 'I have not faced an opponent such as yourselves in a long time. The might of Mograine is indeed worth crushing.'

And then Lord Archimonde was there. He appeared without warning, and the combat halted. The men trembled as the doomguards held their ground.

'Kazzak.' said Archimonde. 'Leave them to me.'

'Lord Archimonde.' said Kazzak. His bloodlust was crushed.

'Retreat lads!' cried the dwarf. 'Run for it! We'll do no more good here!'

The alliance began to flee. Archimonde, however, walked calmly after them. Although they were sprinting with all their might, the demon lord gained on them. The paladin, Mograine, halted. 'Continue the retreat! I'll hold him!'

'Pitiful wretches.' said Archimonde. 'I could have killed them at any moment.'

'Often you demons boast.' said Mograine, blade in hand. 'Yet seldom are you as mighty as you claim.'

'Old fool.' said Archimonde. 'I have not allowed the forces of the Alliance to flee out of hubris. I have done it so that the survivors of this rabble may travel to the four corners of this world. One final desperate race to escape their inevitable doom. And wherever they travel all shall know the futility of resisting the Legion. And that I am Archimonde. Archimonde the Defiler. Destroyer of worlds.'

'Your titles matter nothing to me, creature of darkness!' cried Mograine. 'The wicked shall perish! Face the might of Mograine!' He charged and leaped into the air, blade held aloft. It blazed with an unworldly light. For a moment Kazzak wondered if he might injure Lord Archimonde.

The moment ended as Archimonde raised a hand. Mograine gasped. His sword fell from his grip, and he landed on the ground. Kazzak had not even seen the spell cast. The paladin spat out blood as his eyes rolled back in his head. Then he died.

So mighty a warrior and his life was extinguished with hardly a gesture. Once again Kazzak remembered why Archimonde was the greatest of Sageras' students.

The sword he had wielded spun through the air and implanted itself in the ground. It was truly a magnificent blade if ever there was one. Archimonde raised a hand and sent a bolt of darkness as it. The darkness poured into the sword, going deeper and deeper. Yet the blade did not crack. For a moment the sword darkened. Then the light shone out again.

Archimonde blinked in surprise. 'That is a fine blade. I will bend it to my will yet.'

At that moment the Lich Kel'thuzad then appeared and bowed.

'Lord Archimonde,' said Kel'thuzad, 'I am at your disposal. Shall I raise the dead?'

'Yes.' said Archimonde, 'Raise what corpses you can and bring them to reinforce our strong points. Our resources are limited.' He looked to Kazzak. 'Kazzak, gather my forces. Call forth all my lieutenants on this battlefield. I would speak with them. Meet me on the hill, and I will have further orders.'

He was gone in a flash. As Kel'thuzad went about raising the bodies of the slain as undead, Kazak made his way over to the blade. The blade Mograine had wielded. It was a great weapon, greater even than his own. Yet there seemed to be a sort of personality about it. Looking at it he felt like he was looking at more than a weapon. There was a presence there.

Kazzak reached out to grasp it.

There was a whispering sound, and Kazzak felt a pain. He drew back his hand. It was burned. He hadn't come within a foot of it. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to where Mograine was arising in a mockery of life.

'Lord Alexandros,' said Kel'thuzad, 'who do you serve?'

'My…' The was a straining of will. 'I serve Ner'zhul.'

'Excellent.' said Kel'thuzad. 'Find the other paladins. Raise each of them in turn. We will make an army of Death Knights.'

'As you command, master.' said Alexandros.

Kazzak did not like seeing so formidable a warrior enslaved. Still, it was for the best. The Legion must prevail. He turned to stalk toward the last remnants of human resistance.

* * *

Arthas saw the army disintegrating around them. The will of the men was failing. Soon either they would break, or Archimonde would be upon them. In either event, they would die. He swung his hammer until his hands were numb. Varian and Sylvanas fought with feverish desperation. But it was only a matter of time.

At last, they had a moment where the enemy did not press them. It would have to be enough. 'Sound the retreat, Varian.' he said.

'We can still defeat him!' said Varian. 'The men of Stormwind do not flee-'

'Retreat! At once!' roared Arthas. 'Pull back!'

'This is folly Arthas!' cried Varian .'We should at least try to-'

Arthas turned to him, and Varian froze. 'Listen to me, Varian. I have a plan. But if it works everything in this entire area will be dead! We have to get out of here! Archimonde won't chase us; his army is devastated! Now follow my orders!'

Varian nodded. Then, drawing out a horn he blew it. 'Retreat!' he called to his men. 'Pull out! Pull back!'

The armies of Lordaeron began to withdraw. Yet Arthas looked to the hilltop. Uther and Antonidas were still there. Or dead. But their bodies might be raised. There were also many pockets of men who escaped who might die if he did not help them.

'Arthas?' asked Sylvanas.

Arthas drew out a scroll of town portal he had been gifted with. 'Continue the retreat. I'm going to go see if I can save anyone else. Go!'

And he rushed back into the battlefield to gather what remained of the once proud armies of the Alliance.

* * *

It was midday, but one could never guess it by looking outside. An unnatural shadow had forced the land of Dalaran into perpetual twilight. The land itself was devastated. The armies were routed. Rhonin and Krasus had been working nonstop on this.

And finally, they had success.

'This should work.' said Krasus. 'Yes, it will work. We've done it. When the nexus explodes, the power will be channeled into creating a sphere of portals. That should allow us to unleash the entire explosion into a concentrated location.' He paused. 'It will still probably destroy the entire surrounding region. Dalaran will be only a memory.'

'We have no choice!' said Rhonin. 'Archimonde is here!'

'I know.' said Krasus.

'How do we target it?' asked Rhonin.

Silence fell over them. '…I don't know.' admitted Krasus. 'I have no plan for that. And now we have no time to make one.'

'We can't give up though.' said Rhonin. 'Let's keep at it. Maybe something will happen to slow Archimonde down. Or maybe he'll stop to gloat.'

'It is better than running, I suppose.' said Khadgar with a smile.

* * *

Archimonde heard the report from Balnazzar with clenched fists. On and on went the lists of failures and casualties. He would have taken a few heads for this fiasco, but that would have left him without any subordinates.

'Tichondrius and Mal'ganis dead?' he said.

'Yes milord.' said Anetheron. 'Most of the lesser dreadlords have been killed as well. Varimathras is elsewhere and may in time be able to gather another army to support what we have.'

'Where is Mannoroth?' asked Archimonde. 'Is he fallen as well?'

'He was badly wounded during the assault on Dalaran.' said Balnazzar. 'Tichondrius ordered him moved to the Alterac Highlands. The Lich King is gathering his forces there and in Stratholme. We have some strength left, and the humans have suffered grievously.'

'But the night elves have yet to be even attacked.' noted Archimonde. 'No, spare me your excuses Balnazzar. They fall on deaf ears. Anetheron I charge you with taking charge of the scourge. Assess what resources we have remaining to us and find weak targets.

'Where is the Lich?'

Balnazzar paused. 'I… I do not know milord. He was resurrecting the dead a moment ago. It is possible that he was destroyed or withdrew-'

'Possible? You mean you weren't keeping track of him?' asked Archimonde.

'With respect, Lord Archimonde, we have faced the assembled of the entire alliance.' said Balnazzar. 'Lord Tichondrius became increasingly agitated and irrational. And I only just arrived on the battlefield a few hours ago. Things have been so chaotic we haven't been able to keep track of things.'

'I am displeased, Balnazzar.' said Archimonde. 'The invasion has just begun, and we have already suffered devastating losses. The Dreadlords were supposed to prevent this from occuring.'

'A thousand pardons, Lord Archimonde.' said Anetheron. 'I assure you the situation will be stablized. What would you have us do?'

'Take your forces into the Alterac Highlands to meet with Mannoroth.' said Archimonde. 'Kazzak will go with you. I will follow soon. But first I will make an example of these paltry wizards, by crushing their city into the ashes of history.'

And he turned to create his circle of power. Yet before he could, he realized that a mist had arisen over the battlefield, shrouding it. He would wait. He wanted his enemies to see their hope crumble.

* * *

Uther came to and found the blackened body of Tichondrius leaning over him. He forced the Dreadlord off and reached for his hammer. Then he remembered it was destroyed. He looked around and saw utter desolation. Where were the others? Had they died?

A mist was rising over the battlefield now, obscuring him from view. He stood and walked amidst the carnage. Demons, undead, men, boys, woman, girls, elves, dwarves. There were corpses of all kinds around them. It soon began to rain like so many tears.

Uther walked amid them. Where were the others?

'Alexandros!' he called. 'Saiden! Sage! Ballador! Arthas!'

There was no answer. He wandered and eventually came before the body of Ballador the Bright. The man lay dead on the ground, a wound in his heart. His eyes were open, his expression one of horror. Uther closed them.

'Ballador. Your light has faded.' he said.

A little further on he found Sage Truthbearer. The man had been scalded by dark magic, but his expression was peaceful. Uther closed his eyes as well. 'Sage. I wish I could mourn you alone.'

He looked on the bodies and faces of men around him. Men he had trained as paladins. Men he had watched learn and grow from boyhood. They'd had hopes and dreams of their own. Now they were all ended, and he was alone.

'…My knights, so many of them.' he gasped. 'I trained you. I brought you into the order. Now you are dead and for what? The demon has arisen anyway.

'I'm so sorry.'

Then he caught sight of a gleam. A golden red gleam in the light. He made for and saw a sword sticking out of a stone. Leaning against it was Saiden Dethronan, who seemed to be trying to draw it out. Uther ran to him. 'Saiden! Saiden lie still, I will heal you!'

Saiden collapsed and looked up. His eyes were bleary. '…Lord Uther.'

'By the grace of the light you yet live.' said Uther, summoning the light.

But it burned Saiden. The paladin cried out. Uther stopped, and then he saw the unnatural pallor on his friend's skin. 'You…'

'I am… an abomination…' gasped Saiden. 'The Lich, Kel'thuzad, he, he raised me from the dead. He did the same to Alexandros. I can feel, I can feel the Lich King's will in my mind, trying to subvert me.

Now he has fled with all his forces. They mean to reinforce their strong points. Lord Antonidas is with them…'

'This cannot be,' said Uther, 'I will not allow this! Saiden there may be a cure-'

'There is no cure.' said Saiden. 'I am dead, and now I am damned. Take the Ashbringer, Uther. Alexandros brought it here so that you could save us all. It is too late. But you may still avenge us. Send that blackhearted monster to the hell in which he belongs.'

Uther reached out and took the Ashbringer. He felt the blade's power course through him. His strength was restored. In other times and places, it would have given him hope. Now he lamented that he had not had this blade earlier.

'Destroy me, Uther.' said Saiden. 'Do not let me fall once more into his sway. Let me pass into darkness as is the fate of all undead, without damning anyone else.'

'No, Saiden.' said Uther. 'You will not be damned. You have not failed. None have held their sanity in the grip of undeath before you. The light does not see the flesh of men. It sees only their heart.'

'Then it shall find it here, in Lordaeron.' said Saiden. He smiled.

And Uther drove the blade into his brother's chest. Fire licked up, and in moments Saiden Dethronan was reduced to ashes. Uther raised the blade and looked mournfully on it.

'Uther!' called a voice. 'Uther!'

Uther looked up to see Arthas rushing toward him. His hair had returned to its golden color. Perhaps by some spell. It did not matter. 'I am glad you are alive, lad.'

'Uther,' said Arthas, 'we have to go. This entire area is going to go up. You and I are the last of the forces remaining in this area. Now come on, we have to leave.'

'I am the last.' said Uther.

'What?' said Arthas.

'I am the last of the original paladin order.' said Uther.

'You don't know that.' said Arthas. 'The others may have-'

'Turylyon is lost beyond the dark portal.' said Uther. 'Tirion is in disgrace. Gavinrad lies dead in Anderhol. Alexandros is transformed into his own antithesis. And Saiden I have just had to destroy. The order is no more. My knights are dead or corrupted.

'I will not flee. Not today.'

'What?' said Arthas. 'Uther there is a plan. We must-'

'There will be no more plans.' said Uther. 'No more debate. No more retreats. I have beheld the utter ruin of Lordaeron and the defeat of humanity. For this atrocity, I will have enact retribution. Archimonde will die by my hand!'

The Ashbringer filled him with power. And Uther felt more power pouring into him. Light poured from him, and the mist was cleared away in an instant.

* * *

Arthas stepped back in terror. Uther's eyes were glowing with bright golden light. The paladin looked up to the hilltop which even now was unveiled. It seemed suddenly as though Uther was no longer a mortal man, but a god or an angel in human form. The paladin walked toward the hill. Arthas ran after him.

'Uther have you lost your mind!' cried Arthas.

The undead, newly bolstered, ran for him. Yet they were consumed by his light before they could even draw near. The doomguards came at him and were burned. They fled in terror. Dark magics were unleashed by the spellcasters of the legion and waves of fire. And wherever he walked, he drove away the blight. The undead fled in terror before him. Those that could not get away were destroyed without a blow being struck.

The doomguards looked at Uther coming and were cowed. Creatures who had slaughtered dozens threw down their weapons and fled. Their commander cracked a whip of flame and tried to call them back, but none would listen. Soon he stood alone against Uther, and after ad, moment ran after them to try and drag them bodily back.

He failed.

'Cowards!' roared Archimonde. 'Kill him!' Sending a bolt, he killed a doomguard. 'Go forth and slay that human!'

But the Legion would not comply. Uther had broken their spirit without a word. Only the greater demons were trying to restore order. Arthas stared in awe as his mentor came to a halt at the base of the blighted hill. The three portals loomed above him, pouring forth unholy energy into the world. Yet the flow of demons had stopped.

Had their armies been exhausted?

Uther raised a horn and blew it. The sound was so great that the horn shattered and the echo of it resounded throughout the hills. Then he raised the Ashbringer. 'I am Uther! Grandmaster of the Paladin Order and champion of Lordaeron! I wish to challenge Archimonde to single combat!

'Come forward you craven lord of slaves?! Prove your valor against me! Come against me coward, and answer for your crimes!'

And Archimonde came. Arthas realized then that he was the pillar of the Legion. That all his subordinates looked to Archimonde as an unassailable source of strength. And now that all had been cowed, Archimonde could not deny the challenge in front of his subordinates.

The demon lord walked slowly down the hill toward Uther. He loomed above the paladin like a tower of unimaginable strength. Unholy magic coursed around his. His face was in an enraged snarl and he summoning into his hand a vast sword of black metal. The darkness which before had been only a malaise now became like the blackest night to ever exist.

All hope left Arthas. He could hardly see anything now. Nothing but Archimonde and Uther barely visible. Both would die here.

Then the Ashbringer gleamed in the darkness. A pillar of light shot forth from the paladin. It cut through to the natural sky. The unholy fire which had scoured the sky was quenched. The darkness faded, and the sun shone down brighter than was possible. Yet brighter still was Uther whose mail was shining ever brighter than was possible.

Yet it did not hurt the eyes.

Archimonde raised his sword and the unholy magics without arose in terrible might. The light which touched it was consumed. 'Let this scar signify the first blow against the mortal world.'

He brought down his blade.

Arthas sprang aside. Yet Uther met the blade. There was a shockwave of power. Around them, the earth churned and was kicked up. Arthas was thrown back and nearly buried by the wave of loose earth and dark magic. His ears rang with the sound of a thunderclap. He forced the dirt off him and stood. Then he saw that Uther had stopped the blow, though one knee was bent.

Then he turned it and stuck back. His blade raked Archimonde across the leg, and the demon let loose a cry of agony. Raising a hand, Archimonde sent a bolt of unholy energy against Uther. The paladin light contested it.

There was a burst of power as the two powers fought. For a moment the whole of the world seemed veiled in an unnatural twilight. Arthas stood in shock. Archimonde and Uther was face to face. The demon had taken on a smaller size so that now he was only two heads taller than Uther.

They dueled. With every blow, the world flashed and broke. Vast trenched were dug in the ground from the strikes of Archimonde. Then Archimonde reeled back, crying in pain as a slash appeared above his shoulder. Then he was forced on the defensive.

The demons of the nether threw themselves down and screamed in horror. Only the Captain of the Doomguards now stood. Bearing witness to the confrontation as Arthas was. It was strange in a way. They were the only two witnesses to the cataclysmic confrontation raging here.

'Enough.' said Archimonde. 'Until now I have brought forth only a fraction of my full power. Now witness a power comparable to Sageras himself.'

Suddenly Archimonde stomped the ground with one foot. His foot dug into the earth. A crack broke in the ground, lengthening and widening. Uther ducked to one side, but it passed him by. It shot across the landscape, tearing its way through until it reached Lordaeron lake. The water poured in and out of it came thousands upon thousands of water elementals. They rushed out of the chasm like a tide.

Archimonde raised a hand and clenched his fist. The earth began to shake as creatures of rock and stone emerged. Those few trees still standing were torn up from their roots. Flames licked up from the cracks in the ground. They spread across the battlefield by a howling wind until all the land was afire. Arthas raised the light to protect himself as fire met water and clouds of steam arose. Winds howled and spread the flames further and further. And then came the elementals, of every kind and shape. They arose in new rage at the disruption and descended upon Uther as he was hidden by steam.

Archimonde smiled amidst the flames as the inferno rose higher and higher. Great walls of earth arose and descended upon where Uther had been as if to entomb him. 'All your vaunted magics and powers are naught but stolen magic. Long ago we Eredar taught the Highborne of old their spells. And they passed down their diminished craft to you mortals.

'All that you have built and constructed is but a poor imitation of our greater might. We will suffer no rival.'

A pillar of dark flame descended upon the land where Uther was buried. There was a flash, and Arthas gripped his ears. He could hear nothing. But he saw a wall of dirt and rock flow past his divine shield. A divine shield which should have faded by now.

What was going on? Some force was feeding his power.

A golden light suddenly cut through the ground. An aura of pure brilliance burst forth from the earth and out of it arose Uther. Once more he was veiled in light so his face could not be seen. But visible were two wings like those of an angel.

The aura shot outwards in a wave. It passed over Archimonde and Arthas and the demons and did no harm. Yet wherever it went the winds quieted. The fires went out. The waters calmed. And the earth ceased to shake. Uther landed on his feet, and he was once more a human.

'…This is impossible.' said Archimonde. 'No mortal could have this kind of power! No weapon could bestow it! WHO ARE YOU?!'

'You know me well, Archimonde.' said Uther, eyes shining. 'I am the spirit that drove the Silver Hand in a thousand battles. I am the mercy shown to a thousand murderers. I am the benevolent King that all good men aspire to serve. I am the knight, swift in justice, slow to kill, who seeks good in all things. I am the Prince who weighs his every choice with care and devotion that all might prosper.

'No man has attained me, nor shall they. Yet all are welcome who strive for the good of all.

'I am light incarnate. The hope of all things great and small.'

'Well you are egotistical, whoever you are.' said Archimonde, mastering himself. 'You should know that the Legion proves all hopes false.'

Arthas suddenly realized that although Uther was standing tall, he was shaking visibly. He was possessed with some spirit of pure light. It was giving him the power to stand against Archimonde. And yet that same spirit was killing him. For the first time since the battle had begun Arthas realized that his mentor was mortal.

This couldn't go on for much longer. What were Krasus and Rhonin doing?

Had they fled? Or did they still labor in the ruins of Dalaran, working to finish the spell that he had instructed them to make. Every moment that Uther worked was buying them a little more time. Yet would it be enough?

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Well, that's enough for today.

This chapter had to be rewritten from the ground up. I feel kind of awkward making Uther with the Ashbringer this powerful. But it has been clearly established that the light can give people miracles. Besides, I'm of the opinion that Uther is, at least, the second most powerful paladin to ever live. Tirion could curb stomp the Lich King with the Ashbringer. Despite being absolutely no match for him beforehand. This means that the Ashbringer gives one an obscene power boost. Uther is, at this time, much stronger than Tirion was when he picked up the Ashbringer.

Plus, Thrall was able to injure Archimonde so even base Uther could probably do a bit of damage.

Really it isn't so much Uther fighting Archimonde as the light 's form.


	18. The Last Gasp

**Chapter Eighteen: The Last Gasp**

Krasus and Rhonin were at a loss. Archimonde was outside throwing around enough power to flatten a mountain. And Krasus and Rhonin were just sitting there, thinking. They had tried a lot of different tactics, but there didn't seem to be able way to focus the portals on one location. Not without many more mages than they had.

'I have an idea.' said Rhonin suddenly.

'What is it?' asked Krasus.

'When we teleport it creates sort of uh, nexus.' said Rhonin. 'It draws all the surrounding mana to the spot where you are teleporting so you can appear there. There are spell techniques for locking a spell onto someone who teleports in.'

'Of course.' said Krasus. 'You mean like wards that cast a spell on anyone who teleports into a given area.'

'Yes, exactly.' said Rhonin. 'If we could lock onto a teleport signal we could summon the spell.'

'…Someone would have to go out there and set up the spell, however.' said Krasus.

'Can you cast the spell on your own?' asked Rhonin.

'Yes.' said Krasus.

'Good.' said Rhonin. 'I'll do it. Wish me luck.'

'Good luck.' said Krasus.

Rhonin teleported away. He found himself looking at Lord Uther dueling Archimonde in single combat. Light and dark clashed again and again as both slashed at each other. At the moment neither had the advantage. However, Uther looked to be tiring while Archimonde was not. The demon lord unleashed waves of dark power. He rained unholy missiles upon the paladin.

Each time Uther would defeat them with the light. And each time the light would be a little less bright.

Then Rhonin saw Arthas. The prince was sitting crosslegged some ways from the combat. His hammer was resting on his knees. He was watching the duel like one might watch soldiers training in the mustering yard. Rhonin rushed up to him. 'Arthas, what are you doing here?'

'I came to rescue anyone I could.' said Arthas. 'However, Uther decided to challenge Archimonde to single combat. What of your mission?'

'We can do as you asked.' said Rhonin. 'But it'll be hard to target. We've come up with a way to do it though. We'll set up an area where if anyone teleports the whole thing will go off. But I need to prep the area.

'Can you defend me?'

'Can fish swim?' asked Arthas, getting to his feet.

Archimonde let out a cry of pain. Uther had apparently wounded him again.

* * *

Something was not right.

The duel between Uther and Archimonde was showcasing their enormous power. Anetheron could certainly see why Tichondrius would be killed by such a power. Even so, it was clear Archimonde would emerge the winner. Yet something was wrong.

Uther kept yielding ground. Every so often he would retreat, and Archimonde would pursue. Drawing ever nearer to Dalaran. Why? What purpose was served by nearing that ruin?

He did not know. But he knew a trap when he saw one. And when he saw a young mage appear to speak with the Prince of Lordaeron, his suspicions were confirmed. He approached Kazzak from where he had been hiding.

'Mighty Lord Kazzak,' he said. 'I have a task for you.'

'I was watching the fight.' muttered Kazzak. 'What is it?'

'The humans have some plan.' said Anetheron. 'Some scheme which centers around Dalaran. I will go there and investigate. You must kill the Prince of Lordaeron and the wizard who accompanies him.' He glanced to where most of the demons used to be. They had all fled. The moment Archimonde was injured what little will had remained them was broken. They tore off into the highlands. Balnazzar remained, however. 'Balnazzar, try to find our forces and reorganized them.'

'You intend to go alone?' asked Balnazzar.

'We have little choice.' mused Anetheron. 'Go. There is little time.'

'As you wish.' said Kazzak. 'A duel with the Prince of Lordaeron may be entertaining.' He beat his wings, summoned his whip and flew toward the wizard.

Anetheron sighed. 'Now begins the killing.'

* * *

Krasus sensed the dreadlord arrive as he meditated. With a sigh, the elven mage stood up. He'd have to deal with this right away. Unfortunately, this creature was powerful. Very powerful. Taking up his staff he walked outside toward the presence. It was in a small garden that he found the dreadlord. The demon was walking amid the plants which had thus far escaped destruction.

'Where are you mortal?' he hissed. 'I sense your blood. Hiding will not avail you.'

Krasus rounded the pillar and sent a bolt of flame toward him. The dreadlord caught it, and it dissipated. 'Who said I was hiding?'

'The Archmage Krasus, is it not?' asked the dreadlord.

'You know me?' asked Krasus in surprise.

'I know of you.' said the Dreadlord. 'The Legion has kept careful track of potential threats.'

He sent a wave of darkness at Krasus, who dispelled it with a wave. The demon cast a spell to send him to sleep, but Krasus fought it off. Summoning a water elemental, he sent it toward the dreadlord. Yet the creature surged into the shadows of the trees.

Krasus walked amongst them, looking around. 'What's wrong? Have you run out of infernals to summon? By now I think you know I am more than a potential threat.'

He turned and parried a barrage of black flame missiles. The water elemental was dispelled in an instant, and the Dreadlord was surging toward him. Krasus rolled away, and the claws raked the ground, tearing the turf.

'Spare me. I know well your abilities.' said Anetheron. 'You may well be powerful for a human. But you are far from the strongest of the Six. And even if you were the strongest of them, you are only a-'

Krasus let loose his true form. Wings grew from his back. His clothes faded and were replaced by red scales. He soon grew so large that he towered over the dreadlord and filled the entire courtyard. His wings stretched outward.

'Yes?' asked the dragon.

'-consort of the Red Dragon Queen.' finished the Dreadlord. 'Very well, I concede defeat.' And he disappeared in a green mist. Krasus sent forth a few spells to make sure he was gone. Then he resumed his elf form and walked back to the ritual. 'So much the better. I hate the taste of demons.'

* * *

Uther and Archimonde exchanged a flurry of blows. The force cracked the ground beneath them. The air was filled with flashes of light. One moment the shadows would grow longer than seemed possible. Then they would disappear altogether.

Archimonde had taken several more small wounds. Yet Uther had sustained similar damage. On and on the fight went, with neither able to overwhelm the other.

Rhonin was still casting his spell. Arthas was beginning to grow impatient. 'Rhonin how long will this take?'

'Erm, five minutes perhaps.' asked Rhonin. 'Why?'

Arthas looked up to see the Captain of the Doomguards flying to land before him with a crash. A wave of dirt was kicked up by the force of his entrance, and he smiled. Then he brandished a blade as long as Arthas was tall. Maybe longer.

'Because we don't have that long.' said Arthas, readying his hammer.

'Face me, mortal!' cried the demon. 'Face the might of Kazzak!'

'Keep going! I'll deal with him!' said Arthas.

Then he ran forward to face the demon. The demon narrowed his eyes, and his smile widened. 'So it is you. The Prince of Lordaeron who has been of such trouble. Strange, among doomguards, it is the strongest who rule. I am Kazzak, and I am the strongest.'

'I can tell.' said Arthas, stalling. 'I suppose that is why your entire army is fleeing like headless chickens into Alterac.'

'I do not see any of your countrymen in this place, human.' noted Kazzak.

'By design.' said Arthas. 'My men do not flee unless I command it. Can you say the same?'

'I will discipline them soon enough.' said Kazzak. Fortunately, I do not need others to fight my battles for me. Feel the power of the Burning Legion!'

'I have been facing it for months.' said Arthas. 'You hide behind your minions until your enemy is exhausted. Then you enter and destroy them and pretend as though it is due to your own strength. But you don't know what strength is. You have neither the honor or courage of we mortals.

'You prey on the weak and corrupt the strong! You are nothing! And when you are destroyed you your designs will come to nothing.'

Kazzak laughed, his voice booming. 'I've heard such speeches from others before you, paladin. They're all dead now. But enough of this, have at you!'

He struck. Arthas parried the blow. It seemed to have the force of a mountain behind it, and his hands were shaken by it. More blows like it soon drove Arthas backward as Kazzak slashed at him.

Yet Arthas slowed his retreat, ducked under a wide swing and brought up his hammer. It swung toward Kazzak's chin, but the doomguard was too quick. He stepped back and brought his sword down to strike again.

Arthas dodged to one side. Then sudden fire poured down from above. He barely got his shield up in time. The inferno falling on him passed and he walked out. Kazzak's smile widened further. He looked like a shark. 'You are skilled! I see why you have such renown among your people!'

'I've killed dozens of your kind, doomguard.' said Arthas.

'Yes, that is why I compliment you.' said Kazzak. 'But you realize that even if you succeed in stalling me, it will not matter. Look over there. Lord Archimonde is the mightiest and most powerful of all the Lords of the Burning Legion. Even Kil'jaden is weaker than him.

'Whatever scheme you may have hatched, my part in disrupting it is a mere formality. You could prepare for a century. You could learn every spell to every exist. You could set a thousand traps. And it would only slow Lord Archimonde down.'

'Slow this.' said Arthas.

Summoning the light, he unleashed a spell of retribution. Kazzak groaned in pain. Arthas charged at him and drove him back with a series of blows. Yet Kazzak summoned a whip of flame and lashed at him. Arthas ducked too lash and took a lash across the shoulder. He was thrown back and rolled away just in time to avoid being cut in half.

Rising there came a pause between them. 'I don't think Lord Archimonde is as invincible as you say.' said Arthas.

'And what would know of his designs?' asked Kazzak.

'I know that his battle with Uther isn't nearly as explosive as it was before.' said Arthas. 'There hasn't been a chasm broken in the earth for quite some time.'

'What?' said Kazzak.

'They're slowing down.' said Arthas.

'That's impossible.' said Kazzak, looking to Archimonde. 'No human could… No matter. I must finish this!'

He turned and rushed toward Rhonin. 'Now Wizard you will pay the price for opposing the Legion!'

Rhonin looked up with a start. 'The spell is done, Krasus activate it!' He disappeared in a flash just in time. Kazzak would have sliced him in half if he'd taken a moment longer. The spell was done. And Uther was still fighting Archimonde.

Arthas ran toward Uther. Yet even as he did so, Archimonde threw the old paladin to the ground. His left foot was set on Uther's neck as the Ashbringer flew from Uther's hand.

'Uther!' cried Arthas.

* * *

Archimonde hadn't had this much fun in ages. It had been many years since he had faced someone who could contend directly with him at his height. Yet like all things the battle was coming to an end. One move from him would crush the life from this paladin, once and for all.

'I must admit.' he said 'You are more formidable than any who have come before you. None who wield the light have done so as well as you. Even… no matter. Yet you are old and though I am ancient, I am in the prime of my youth. Your race are as insects. You survivr through fast reproduction rather than any innate power.

'You are finished, paladin. Know that you have failed and that your world will fall like so many others. Let those be your dying thoughts.'

Then there was stabbing, burning agony. The Ashbringer pierced his leg and he felt his blood pour out over the ground. The paladin had slashed him in the leg. Reeling back Archimonde clutched his foot to try and staunch the bleeding.

A golden haired human ran to the paladins side, drawing out the blade. He had been watching before. Now he would die sooner.

'Uther!' he cried.

He helped the paladin up. 'Good timing lad. I suppose we'll die gloriously.'

'You…' said Archimonde, 'you are Prince Arthas.'

'We're done here Uther.' said Arthas, drawing out a scroll. 'Sorry I can't stay to chat, Archimonde. But duty calls.'

Archimonde realized what he was doing as the blue light emanated around him. He raised a finger and sent forth a spell of destruction. But it was too late. Both were gone in an instant.

'Damn it.' he cursed. 'That miserable mortal injured me.' The wound was not healing as his others had.

'Lord Archimonde are you alright?' cried Kazzak, approaching.

So at least not all his warriors had abandoned him. 'Yes. It will take some effort to heal this. The pain is terrible.' said Archimonde, realizing that the injuries he had healed still hurt. 'Still, it seems they choose to flee.'

'Milord, Anetheron believes they were only stalling.' said Kazzak.

'Stalling?' asked Archimonde. 'Hardly. No power greater than the paladin could have been mustered in this land. There is only a blackened and ruined city, filled with remnants of stolen magic. And now I will-'

And then a dozen portals appeared on every side of him. And through all of them, he could see a nexus of powerful lay energies about to explain. 'Oh shit.'

He summoned a shield to protect both him and Kazzak.

* * *

The explosion could be seen for hundreds of miles as a bright light piercing the heavens. The magical emanations resounded across the entire world. The mountains shook. The lakes and rivers churned. Storms appeared out of nowhere on calm waters. Creatures big and small felt a massive and unparalled unleashing of power.

The last gasp of Dalaran was a violent one.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Well, I think that seems a good note to end on. This chapter is long enough as it is.


	19. A New Order in Lordaeron

**Chapter Nineteen: A New Order in Lordaeron**

Dalaran was no more. The fields were blighted wastelands of craters and churned earth. The trees were shattered stumps of decaying wood. The very soul of the land was irrevocably cursed by the feet of unholy abominations. And the air itself was now crackling with clouds of unholy magic.

Not in a year. Not in a thousand years could the scars which had been wrought on this land be healed. There had been one final outpouring of mana. The chaotic energies of the twisting nether had mixed with the very soul of the city itself. Built up by innumerable enchantments made, it had detonated.

Nothing could have survived such an outpouring of wrath.

Nothing save Lord Archimonde. And it had been a very narrow thing. Kazzak looked at his master in awe. Not at his survival, but on the injuries he had sustained. Archimonde's flesh was cracked and burned from the storm of mana. His left leg was scarred by the Ashbringer. And his entire body was covered with similar scars. His breath was ragged and exhausted.

These mortals had brought harm, real harm, to Lord Archimonde. And none of it was healing.

The demon lord shrank. His presence faded. Until he was nothing more than a power Eredar. His flaming eyes faded as the Lord of the Legion collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. Then suddenly he looked skyward and screamed. He screamed in agony, his hands shaking with exertion. Yet there was no echo in that scream. It was the cry of an ordinary being.

Kazzak fell by him and set a hand to his shoulder.. 'My Lord, I will get you a healer.'

'Unhand me!' hissed Archimonde, shrinking away and standing. He limped a few feet. 'I am… Archimonde… the Defiler… Student of… Sageras… No mortal may be… my… equal! I…' He fell to one knee. 'I cannot be undone like… this…'

Then he collapsed.

Kazzak stared. Lord Archimonde was close to death, and he had no talent for healing. It wasn't a skill the Legion kept in high demand. Those so weak they needed others to heal them didn't deserve to live. Or so said the dreadlords.

But Archimonde could not be replaced.

Perhaps the Dreadlords had some preparation for this. But if they did, they were nowhere to be seen. Kazzak looked to Dalaran. No doubt Anetheron was dead. He had to get Archimonde to safety. And he had to do it before the Alliance realized what was happening.

'I'm here my Lord.' he said. 'I will not leave you.'

He sheathed his sword, picked up Lord Archimonde and carried him away on his back.

* * *

From a nearby hilltop and exhausted Arthas watched. The doomguard carried his master away. He almost went after him, but then Kazzak flew into the air. He could not catch him. He fell to his knees.

Dalaran was destroyed and for what. '…All that for nothing.'

'I wouldn't worry lad.' said Uther, who was resting against one of the few trees to survive. 'Archimonde won't be getting up for some time. Demons aren't known for their healing abilities, and the pain of his wounds will not be healed. He will carry them for the rest of his days.

'And when he recovers I'll be waiting.'

That was something. Though Arthas wasn't sure how Uther knew that. 'Come on Uther; we should go.'

He stood. Uther sighed, then raised a hand. 'Arthas, help an old man, will you? I'm feeling my age more than usual.'

Arthas took his hand and pulled him up. The two of them made their way from Dalaran. They wandered the broken land for hours, walking along the road. They saw no sign of any living thing. Not a rabbit. Not a bird. All had fled or died.

Finally, they saw the Alliance before them. The army was exhausted. Men had thrown themselves face down on the ground to sleep in their armor. Others were staring at nothing with empty eyes. King Varian was speaking with several of his lieutenants. As they approached, he ran up.

'Lord Uther, Arthas, what happened?' he asked. 'Is it done?'

'Archimonde was severely wounded.' said Uther. 'But he may yet live. Still, the Legion is devastated.' His voice was too light for Arthas' liking.

'So is the entire nation of Dalaran.' Arthas snapped.

Varian's eyes narrowed. 'I came as fast as I could Arthas! If I'd had the entire Silver Hand at my beck and call, I probably could have held the city without reinforcements!'

'Your pardon, King Varian, but you speak like a fool I used to know.' said Uther without anger. 'I've been in this war from the beginning. No one could have held that city without help.'

'…So who won today?' asked Varian suddenly.

'No one won.' said Arthas. 'The Legion wanted this to be their masterstroke. They would sweep away the last of the resistance in Lordaeron. We intended to stop Archimonde's summoning in the first place. And after that to completely destroy him and the Legion. We killed much of their leadership, but Archimonde lives.

'And we have paid dearly for it. Don't worry Varian. This is only the beginning. There will be plenty of chances for honor and glory. For my part, I've had all I can bear of both.' He looked to the men. 'Get up, all of you! We head north to Hearthglen. We'll regroup there.'

'Give them a moment.' said Varian.

'They've had one.' said Arthas 'And undead don't tire. If they catch us like this, out in the open and exhausted it'll be a massacre.' He moved to a soldier, and pulled him up. He was young. Maybe eighteen. 'Stand up. There you go. Get the others up.'

'I should head south.' said Varian suddenly. 'My forces were focused there. I could bring up the rest.'

'I wouldn't, good king.' said Rhonin as he appeared. 'We just unleashed a massive explosion of mana. It might not be safe to walk through Dalaran right now. If you take the pass through Vandemar, you can meet them that way.'

'That may work.' said Varian. 'I sent forces to Lordaeron City to uh… reinforce it.'

Arthas narrowed his eyes. He wondered what Varian had been about to say. Probably he meant to say "to free your father." 'Good thinking.' He looked around. 'Where is Sylvanas?'

'Here.' said the elven woman, emerging from the shadows. 'I tried to track the scourge. But Kel'thuzads summoned clouds of darkness to hide their retreat. We had to pull back.'

'I'm just glad you're alive.' said Arthas. 'Come, let's keep moving.'

The army, tired and bitter, marched along the road. Every so often they came across villages where the men were drilling for war. There were no cheers. No cries of joy. Everyone knew that this was only the beginning. That the bloodshed wouldn't stop for a long time.

And no one was happy.

For days they marched through Anderhol. The land there had begun to heal. But the piles of corpses were burning still. It took away any joy which that might have held for him. Would there never be an end to this war?

Arthas decided it didn't matter. He'd fight on. As long as there was a single person in Lordaeron he would fight on. The light was his strength. And he had witnessed what power it could give the righteous.

And at last, they came to Hearthglen. Bitter. Weary. Tired.

Vereesa was the first to greet them. As soon as she saw her sister she leaped off the rock she had been sitting on and rushed to hug her. 'Sylvanas! Thank the light you're alive!'

'Vereesa, stop hugging me.' said Sylvanas. 'It's embarrassing.'

'Right, sorry.' said Vereesa, breaking the embrace. 'Is Rhonin here?'

'Rhonin is here.' said Rhonin. 'I wasn't even involved in the fighting though. Not the worst of it anyway.'

A stir was happening amidst the soldiers of Hearthglen. Now coming forward were troops and villagers. Many did cheer this time. They probably thought that victory was their and that they could go home.

'Prince Arthas you are here!' said Falric, before nodding to Varian. 'Your majesty, Lord Uther.'

'Captain Falric, the battle is over.' said Arthas. 'Archimonde will be taken out of the equation for some time. Mal'ganis is destroyed as are the better part of our enemies. We have to move quickly to gather strength and use the momentum we have gained.'

Falric smiled. 'I may have some good news then. I have been making contact with various knights and local priests. We have formed the beginnings of an organization. There are many powerful practitioners of the light among them.' He motioned to the crowd.

Out of it emerged a stunningly beautiful woman clad in a scarlet one-piece outfit. It bared her long, curvaceous legs and clung to her exceptionally large bust. She bowed to Arthas, giving him a view of her cleavage. What kind of outfit was that?

'This is Sally Whitemane.' said Falric. 'She has great influence among them.'

'Prince Arthas I have heard many tales of you.' said Sally Whitemane. 'I wish only to serve you in whatever way you deem fit. For I know that you are one chosen by the light.'

'I am certain there will be plenty of places you can be of service, Lady Whitemane.' said Arthas, feeling his lips go dry. 'I would like to meet with you and your compatriots?'

'We would be honored of course.' said Whitemane. 'Yet first, where is Alexandros Mograine? We have long awaited his arrival.'

'Mograine is dead.' said Uther bitterly. 'He fought to the last and completed his mission. However, he has… he has been turned into an undead.'

'Lord Uther, those words grieve us more than you know.' said Whitemane/ 'He was among the most valiant of us all. To know that he is now cut off from the light-'

'No one can be cut off from the light, Whitemane.' said Uther. 'Not even in the deepest of darkness. So long as one will listen it will speak.'

'On that note, there is one other matter. Prince Arthas,' said Falric, 'Tirion Fordring has been of invaluable service. He's helped keep off the undead while we got organized. Without him, there would be many more walking corpses to face.'

Tirion Fordring came forward from the crowd. Arthas had not seen the man in years, and it had not done him well. His hair was now completely white. His face was careworn and weather-beaten, and he regarded Arthas with a certain hostility.

No matter. If Falric vouched for him, he trusted the man.

'I see.' he said. 'Tirion Fordring, kneel.'

Tirion came forward and obeyed. Arthas drew his sword and tapped him lightly on either shoulder. 'Tirion Fordring, by my right of succession and the sovereignty of my crown I hereby restore you to the rank of knight of Lordaeron. Should Lord Uther accept you I will also allow you to rejoin the paladin order.' Then he walked past and offered the blade to Falric. 'Falric here is your sword back. I killed Mal'ganis with it.''

'Thank you.' said Falric. 'What now?'

'Now we must muster all our forces and gather all the figures of authority.' said Arthas. 'We must decide how to act while we have the advantage. Should we rally our forces and prepare to defend, or launch an assault? Lord Uther, what is your counsel?'

Uther seemed surprised at being asked. 'Before I departed to your aid the greatest threat we perceived was Stratholme. The undead reclaimed it amidst the chaos of the war. We never succeeded in burning all the bodies of that city. Now it has a substantial garrison. Most of the villages surrounding the city abandoned the region. Many went with Lady Proudmoore.

'If given time Stratholme could become a powerful bastion for our enemies. Given that we do not know where Archimonde is, I believe we should assault the city and cleanse it.'

'Falric, can I trust you to secure this region in our absence?' asked Arthas.

'Milord, I would stay by your side.' said Falric.

'You are my personal representative in this place, Falric.' said Arthas. 'I charge you with overseeing the construction of proper fortifications. And also the finding of new homes for the refugees from Dalaran. I also want you to begin drilling everyone able to bear arms in the basics. I want a trained army to call on as a reserve in this place.

'Lord Uther, you will remain as well.'

'Shouldn't I go with you?' asked Uther.

'I need someone of great power who can contend with demonlords in this place.' said Arthas. 'Truth be told, I'm not sure I'm even going to launch an assault on Stratholme. If the defenses are too strong, I may simply lay siege to it in order to prevent the undead from spreading beyond.

Tirion, Sylvanas, Sally, you will come with me.' He looked to Rhonin.'Rhonin, Dalaran is lost to us. I would offer you this land as a home for your people until such a time as it can be reclaimed. What are your plans now?'

'I intend to send mages to salvage whatever artifacts and tomes were left behind. And appraise whether the land can be saved.' said Rhonin. 'I hope we can resettle, eventually.'

'That is wise.' said Arthas. 'But I would also make contact with Grand Marshall Garithos in Southshore. See if Muradin escaped. I pray he did. We'll need his axe and hammer before this is done. Vereesa I want you to begin scouting the Alterac Highlands. Find the Blackrock Clan village and find all the places the Legion might try to take an army through.

'Establish outposts on the border and train the locals in the use of the bow and arrow.'

'Right, I'll see to it.' said Vereesa.

Arthas turned to the last member of his company. 'Varian…'

He couldn't think of anything for Varian to do. He couldn't put him under Falric's command. A King could not be given orders by a commoner, however valiant. Nor could he leave him in command. Varian was largely untested, and a single mistake could spell doom for Lordaeron. Neither could he send him to Lordaeron city. He might cause trouble there.

Which meant there was only one other thing he could do.

'Yes?' said Varian, voice guarded.

'Follow me to Stratholme.' said Arthas. 'I'll need your sword.'

'Right,' said Varian, 'I'll gather my forces.'

'Hold your horses, lad.' laughed Uther. 'First, we have to secure this area and gather our forces. Many of us are scattered and leaderless. Even then our armies need at least a days rest before we can do anything. We've just had the largest battle in history.'

'Uther is right.' said Arthas. 'We'll have to wait at least a week. Probably more.'

Varian flinched, then looked down. '…I understand.'

Arthas turned to Whitemane and Falric. 'Sally Whitemane, Falric I wish to speak with the Lords and Clergy of this land. There are changes we will have to make.'

'It shall be as you command, Prince of the Light.' said Sally.

Arthas really hoped that name didn't stick.

* * *

The Battle of Dalaran was too tame a name for the cataclysmic combat. The Silver Hand had been decimated. The Mages of the Kirin Tor humbled and made outcast from their own land. The people of Dalaran and Lordaeron both suffered grievously. The Dreadlords had been all but wiped out. The Doomguards had suffered massive casualties, alongside the other creatures. The scourge had lost vast legions and regained a scant fraction of it. The Legion, expecting an easy victory, had lost their entire vanguard. And with it, many of their reserves.

The lamentations of widows and orphans resounded throughout the night for many days. Both on Azeroth and upon the worlds the Legion controlled. The demons made no boasts of the battle. Neither were any songs made of it.

But the tale of it would be remembered.

* * *

Renault Mograine expected that the tale of what happened in Dalaran would go down in history.

It had been given a name now. The Battle of Immeasurable Loss.

Renault Mograine had fought valiantly in it. He had charged Archimonde alongside Saiden Dethronan, his mentor. He'd nearly shared his fate. But he'd escaped, fighting his way out of the fray and reaching safety in Hearthglen. He'd rallied what men he could. He'd said that Saiden had willed them to flee and save themselves. He hadn't of course; his mentor had been a fanatic. But nobody was going to contradict him.

It was a small consolation that Lord Uther had dealt many wounds to the beast.

Now, days later he looked to Sally Whitemane amid the crowd. Many people from all walks of life had been gathered to this place. They had been called by Prince Arthas. The decorations on the stage were strange, however. The banners of the Alliance were still rolled up.

'Sally do you know what Prince Arthas is planning?' asked Renault.

'I do not have the wisdom to know our Prince's thoughts, Renault.' said Sally. 'Whatever it is I am certain he knows best. He is one blessed with foresight and power beyond even Lord Uther. Captain Falric may know. He is closest in Arthas' council.'

Captain Falric was standing some ways away. He was silent and stern as always. Renault would have approached him, but at that moment Prince Arthas made his entrance. All the blue in his uniform had been replaced with crimson. His hammer was on his back as he came forwarded and regarded them.

'Men of Lordaeron, hear me!' he said. 'The demon Mal'ganis is dead. Many of his masters are destroyed. Yet in return, we mourn the losses of many great heroes.' Father had never had a kind word to say about Prince Arthas. Though he'd never had a kind word to say to Renault either. 'And our task is not yet complete. Archimonde lies in wait, recovering, gathering strength to strike against humanity again. We must not be caught unprepared. Yet with the Kirin Tor and the Silver Hand shattered others must rise to take their place.'

There were murmurs among the crowd, hopeful murmurs as men looked to each other. Prince Arthas suddenly seemed framed in light. He appeared regal and noble, while all the world around him was pale and drab. 'My people, the time has come for the people of Lordaeron to arise. For a great movement is now underway. Throughout the land, the common people are arising in great wrath at the loss of their heroes! Bakers, carpenters, veterans, even thieves and common footpads. All were now wielding whatever weapons they can find. They meant to fight against the enemies of humanity.'

Scattered cheers. 'As individuals and nations, we will muster and wash over the scourge!' cried Arthas. 'With the light as my witness, I now swear this: The Legion will fall! And from its ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world!

 **'And that order shall be called the** _**SCARLET CRUSADE!'**_

He raised his hammer, and there was a flash of light! At that moment the banners were unveiled. Instead of the image of the Alliance on a crimson background, Renault saw the L of Lordaeron against the backdrop of an open flame. Men cheered as they saw it.

'All who would serve in this great endeavor come forward.' said Arthas.

Falric came forward first, of course. Renault had no doubt the Captain had known about this all along. To his surprise, he saw Sally go forward and bow. Others soon filed forward, more and more with every second. The order would have its first recruits. And no doubt Prince Arthas would make many more speeches like this one in the future.

Yes, this had been planned.

Still, it seemed a decent chance to advance himself. With Father, dead Renault was now the heir apparent for all his lands. If Renault got in on the ground floor and offered both his lands and his fighting. he could be in a position of great power. He came forward and joined the others in kneeling. This was only the beginning.

Renault smiled. So much the better. Thank the light Father had died before today. It was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for Renault.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Hey, you know who is an absolutely essential character to the current state of the Scarlet Crusade in WoW? Renault Mograine. Without him, Alexandros would still be running things. The Scarlet Crusade might stand a chance. You know who has, as far as I can tell, absolutely no character development or explanation of his motives?

Renault Mograine.

You can't do this, Blizzard. You cannot base an entire story arc off of the treachery of one person. And then give no explanation to their motives. Did he do it for self interest? No explanation that I could find. Did he do it because he was a fanatic whose ideals clashed with the more conservative Alexandros? No explanation.

Frankly, I think bringing back the Dreadlords was a bad move. They were boring characters to begin with. And the Scarlet Crusade would be more interesting if they were well intentioned. Just absolutely insane. It would have added another shade of grey, instead of one more doomsday cult in a world filled with them.

Fun fact, I had originally intended to kill off Archimonde. However, I decided that self destructing Dalaran wouldn't pack as much of a punch as the World Tree. Plus, Archimonde was taken off guard while sapping the world tree. So yeah, instead he's just KO'd. We'll see how long that lasts.


	20. Old Ground

**Chapter Twenty: Old Ground**

The Blackrock Clan had lost the bulk of its warriors. What remained could not have long held out against the assembled forces of the Alliance. Yet with the coming of the scourge and the Legion, the place had been turned into a bastion of all darkness. The moans of the damned filled the air. Great ziggurats had been summoned upon every hilltop. Corpses gathered from afar were put to work. And above it, all at the peak of the mountain the demon gate blazed brighter than usual.

Lord Archimonde had been lain within the heart of what would one day become a powerful fortress. The demon lord had not yet woken. However, the dreadlords and warlocks had been among them for hours.

Finally, Anetheron and Balnazzar emerged. Kazzak looked to him. 'What news?'

'Lord Archimonde is severely injured.' said Anetheron. 'His physical injuries have mostly healed. However, the light is coursing through his veins. It is causing him a… sickness of sorts. I have never seen anything like it.'

'Impossible.' said Kazzak. 'All demons of the Burning Legion are immune to all disease, and Lord Archmonde is the chosen of Sageras. No power could have inflicted such a thing on him.'

'Believe what you will.' said Anetheron. 'I tell you such a power has done it.' He paused. 'He should have never been injured so, Kazzak.'

'Spare me, Dreadlord.' snapped Kazzak. 'You fled from the dragon while I stayed and fought. If not for me Lord Archimonde would be lying dead, food for the beasts.'

'This argument has no meaning is.' mused Balnazzar. 'Is Mannoroth recovered?'

'He is recovering slowly.' said a warlock. 'However, his wound was terrible. It will be a few more days before he is ready to walk. A week or more before he can take any active service.'

'Then what are we to do now?' asked Kazzak.

'We might rally the Cult of the Damned.' said Balnazzar. 'Their messiah might not have come, but they could not deny us now if we commanded it.'

'What good would that be?' asked Kazzak. 'The humans are burning corpses day and night. There is hardly a graveyard in Lordaeron which has not yet been burned.'

'You need not fear. Or do you think that only humans dwell in Lordaeron?' asked Balnazzar. 'No there are other races. If we can find their burial mounds, we could gather a new army.'

'And lose all hope of gaining them as allies.' muttered a Varimathras. 'I have toiled for weeks to get myself into the council of "King" Mug'thol. If we disturb his dead, he'll turn against us, and all my work will be for nothing. We'll be in an even worse position.'

Anetheron remained silent. '…We will withdraw to Northrend.'

'Those are the words of a coward!' snarled Kazzak.

'They are the words of one who is not a fool.' shot back Anetheron. 'I am not so blind as you, Kazzak.

'All we have seen and heard tells us that this land is turning against us. Stratholme is powerful and may hold out long. Yet not forever. The Kingdom of Creeps may distract our enemies. But the elves of Quel'thalas and other nations may yet come to the Alliance's aid. It too will fall.

'Worse still, the situation in Northrend is bad. The locals have been launching raids since Detheroc's ill-fated voyage. If this goes on we may lose both realms. No, we will draw our forces to the Frozen Throne and stabilize the situation there. We will seek a cure for Lord Archimonde.'

'And what of Lordaeron?!' asked Kazzak. 'Will we allow this humiliation?'

'We draw back our hand to strike again.' said Anetheron. 'When the threat of the Legion has passed the humans may cease to act against us. They will fall back into their old habits. And we may use our influence in the Cult of the Damned to sew further discord.

'Some of us will remain behind. Varimathras will lead them. In time we may destroy Lordaeron from within. For the Prince of Lordaeron is only master in this land because of the crisis. When it has seemed to have passed King Terenas will return to power. We may well make use of this. I will give further thought to the matter.'

'How will we even retreat?' asked Kazzak. 'The Kul'tirans have established a blockade of Stratholme. Even as we speak, the humans are marching to lay siege to the city.'

'The means of our exit stand before you.' said Anetheron, motioning to the demon gate.

'The portal?' asked Kazzak.

'Kel'thuzad you will work with our Warlocks to open a portal to Northrend.' said Anetheron. 'I trust this is within your abilities.'

'Of course.' said Kel'thuzad. 'I shall set myself to the task at once.'

* * *

Thus the plans were made. But the Dreadlords did not know that they were observed by a blue dragon behind a rock. Tyrygosa was in elven form now. She'd followed the Legion once she saw them coming.

* * *

It was several weeks since the founding of the Scarlet Crusade.

King Varian Wrynn was the son of a mighty King. He was hardened by battle. His army had come to the aid of Lordaeron when it was in need. Without him, the battle may have been lost. Without him, all might have been lost.

So why did he feel like the least important person in this army?

Arthas had chosen his role almost as an afterthought. And why was Arthas doing the choosing? Everyone had taken for granted that he was in command, even though Varian was a King. Varian had been stepped over without even being consulted.

He knew that much had happened since he left. He knew he should not have expected this. But when he had decided at the last moment to leave for Lordaeron to join the battle he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd been filled with dreams of glory like those he'd had as a boy. A boy who always used to trounce Arthas in sparring.

Now he was almost an afterthought. He was riding alongside the Prince of Lordaeron at the head of a small group of knights. But not as an equal. He was second best.

'Varian may I ask you something.' said Arthas suddenly.

'What is it?' asked Varian. Arthas had not spoken since they had left.

'Why did you choose to come to Lordaeron?' asked Arthas. 'Why did you change your mind?'

Varian opened his mouth to snap, but Arthas look took the anger out. He looked horribly tired. The King considered his answer. 'I… I wanted to come to begin with. However, Bolvar convinced me to send another in my place. Then I thought about how you were in need, and something convinced me to go after you. It was almost a compulsion.

'I barely caught the ships. Garithos wasn't happy about it, I'll tell you.'

Arthas smiled. 'Well, I'm glad you did. It hasn't been a happy few years.'

Varian looked up as they passed what had once been a farmhouse. Now it was burned out and ruined. The very fields had been tainted with unholy magic. Green mist raised above the blighted turf here or there. And this was not the worst of it.

Varian remembered his first sight of Dalaran. Where once there had been a place of life and beauty now there was a vast wasteland — a blight on the landscape.

'I can tell.' said Varian. 'This land… what could have done this?'

'Mal'ganis. And other things.' said Arthas, smile fading. 'Even before that things were going badly. The orcs escaping their internment camps. The Syndicate forming. And all the rest.' He looked forward to a bend in the road. 'There should be a Scarlet Outpost ahead. Come quickly.'

They rode forward and came around it. There they found Sally Whitemane setting a flaming branch to a pyre. And on it were many corpses, long decayed. There were some more recent ones as well, and some that had been twisted by the magic of undeath.

Whitemane turned and smiled as she approached and bowed. 'Prince Arthas.'

'Sally, you're looking well as always.' said Arthas. 'What news?' His tone was casual. As though the desecration of the dead was a common occurrence. And it was, realized Varian with horror.

'The foul dead have been driven back from many of the villages.' said Sally. 'Some have died, but the bodies of the dead are being burned. They will not wrest the people of this realm from the light.

'Alas, we arrived too late to save some.'

'I am glad to hear it.' said Arthas.

'What destroyed this village?' asked Varian, desiring to change the subject. He couldn't see any signs of combat,

'Nothing.' said Arthas. 'Most of the villages around Stratholme abandoned their lands after the Culling. Some fled to Kalimdor with Jaina. Others went south and were resettled in Southshore and Tauren Mill. Those areas lost many people in the Second War, and the extra population would be welcome in a time of war.

'I suppose they lost hope. Likely for the best.'

'The Culling.' Varian looked to him. 'Did you really destroy Stratholme Arthas? I wondered if it were only a rumor or lies of the enemy.'

'No. I did it.' said Arthas. 'I destroyed the entire city.'

'How could you do it?' asked Varian. 'Slaughter your own people?'

'There was no other way.' said Arthas.

His voice was cold and calm. Varian felt a sudden fury come to him. 'Did you look for one?'

'There was no time.' said Arthas. 'What would you have done in my place, Varian?'

'I would have quarantined the city.' said Varian. 'Blocked off all passage too and from and sought a cure.'

'Mal'ganis arrived and became to convert the populace minutes after I had begun my purge.' said Arthas. 'And no cure has been found since. You would have faced an insurmountable army. You would have been overwhelmed and destroyed.

'And Lordaeron would have fallen.' He turned to Whitemane. 'Sally, what of Lady Sylvanas and Tirion Fordring?'

'Lady Sylvanas has established the siege around the city.' said Sally 'Tirion Fordring beat back an attempt by the undead to sally forth. I am told that Muradin Bronzebeard is coming to reinforce them.'

'Is Lord Garithos with them?' asked Arthas.

Why was he so focused on Garithos? Didn't he trust Varian?

'I do not know, Prince of Light.' said Whitemane, before looking to the buildings. 'Will you stay the night? It would be best if you took a rest before you faced the enemy. Here there is space where you and your companions could regain your strength.'

Whitemane was gazing at Arthas as one enchanted. Varian had seen the same gaze in noblewoman at parties in Stormwind. In other circumstances, it might have been nothing to concern himself with. Yet piles of corpses were burning around them. The ground around them were ruined. And there was something fanatical and obsessed and insane in that gaze. It sickened Varian to see this, and he thought for sure that Arthas would brush her off.

Instead, he rode close and reached up with one gloved hand. He cupped her under the chin and drew up her face so that their eyes met. 'We have no time, milady. We have been delayed a long time already. Stratholme must fall soon, or we may face a war on two fronts.'

'I understand of course.' said Sally 'May I go wish you, Prince Arthas? It is my desire to serve the light.'

'Find a horse and come with me milady.' said Arthas 'There are many tasks I may find for you.'

'Unfortunately, we have no horses here.' said Sally.

'Then you will ride with me.' said Arthas. 'Gather your things and come to me.'

Whitemane bowed low, a mad smile on her face. Varian looked at Arthas incredulously. 'Do you intend to bed her?'

'What if I do?' asked Arthas, meeting his gaze.

'Somehow I doubt you intend to marry her.' noted Varian. 'You hardly know her.'

Arthas laughed uproariously. 'You should have been a priest Varian. Am I not a Prince? I would hardly be the first to take one mistress or many.'

Varian held silent. 'What of the Lady Proudmoore? You spoke of her often when we last met.'

Arthas' eyes darkened. 'If the Lady Proudmoore does marry me she can share me with whomever I choose. Certainly, she has been less than faithful to me.'

'You have changed, Arthas.' said Varian 'And not for the better.'

'Yes. I have.' said Arthas 'But whether or not for the better you are not qualified to judge. I am tired, Varian. I have been fighting for what seems like ages. And yet there is no end in sight.'

Varian did not get a chance to respond for at that moment Sally Whitemane returned with her pack. Arthas offered her a hand, and she climbed up behind him in the saddle. She wrapped her arms around him and put her face in his golden hair and pressed her breasts against his back.

'I am ready now, Prince of Light.' said Whitemane.

'Then we ride.' said Arthas 'Come Varian.'

They rode quickly. The lands they walked through were empty now. Empty villages whose denizens had fled or died were the only signs of civilization. No birds chirped in the land. Nor did they see any sign of animals. The trees themselves seemed bent with a terrible weariness.

Arthas and his men glanced neither to the right or the left. They had, it seemed, seen it all before. Some even spoke and laughed with eachother, and their jokes were bleak and dark ones. He'd heard such jokes from veterans of the war at the height of the First War.

And then Varian saw Stratholme.

Once before he had seen the great city. It had been while he and Arthas were being moved to Quel'thalas for their own protection. He remembered its walls tall and bright. Its sturdy gates. Its flying banners. It had been beautiful and filled with life.

Now the walls were faded. Crystals coursing with unholy energy hovered above every tower. The city behind was burned and blackened. The stench of death was everywhere. And outside the walls, the armies of Lordaeron were assembled with those of Stormwind. Yet this was no army of colorful plumes and bright mail. Many of the warriors who Arthas had assembled were volunteers. They went clad in leather with axes and small shields. Others carried javelins.

The men of Stormwind were well armed. But the elite of Arthas' forces had remained in Hearthglen. There were, however, many elves of Quel'thalas. More than Varian remembered. At their head, the Lady Sylvanas approached.

'Prince Arthas, King Varian,' Sylvanas said, then she paused as she saw Whitemane. For a moment she said nothing before she recovered. 'I am glad you have arrived. We have established a perimeter around Stratholme and reinforced it.'

Sally dismounted alongside Arthas who approached. 'There are more rangers with you than before, are there not?'

'Yes,' said Sylvanas, 'King Anastarian has dealt a serious blow to the scourge remnants. He has beaten Zul'jin in several battles. Now he has dispatched me reinforcements to aid you in your time of need. More are on their way.'

'Excellent.' said Arthas. 'Where is Fordring?'

'I've assigned him to watch the gate.' said Sylvanas. 'Krasus is here as well. Or at least he was. He teleported over to the Kul'tiran Fleet to make plans with Grand Admiral Proudmoore.' She paused. 'Stratholme has formidable defenses. They have many spirit towers guarding it. Enough to break any army which attacked directly.'

At that moment a wild-eyed man rushed forward. 'Prince Arthas we are glad you are here! Let us fall on the gates and purge these unholy wretches with the lights fire!'

A grim-faced man put a hand on his shoulder. 'Isilian, you speak out of turn. I apologize, Prince Arthas. Isilian is overzealous sometimes.'

'Lord Ricor Abbendis, I presume.' said Arthas.

'I am he.' said Abbendis

'Captain Falric tells me that your men are among the most zealous of all the servants of the light.' said Arthas. He did not say that Falric had a low opinion of them. Or the several engagements where innocent villagers had been almost killed. Something about "undead sympathizers." Varian's men had had to reign in his sort on several occasions.

'Yes milord.' said Abbendis. 'We do not stop until victory is ours or we lie dead.'

'Then I would ask that when the first assault is launched, you will be first in the assault.' said Arthas. 'The way must be paved by the valiant if the war is to succeed.' And the more insane parts of the Order cut down to size.

'We are honored and shall do so gladly.' said Abbendis. 'Zeliek,

One of the first paladins to pledge themselves to the Scarlet Crusade came forward. Renault Mograine wasn't he? 'Milord allow me to go with them.'

'Sir Renault?' asked Arthas. 'I am not sure I should risk you.'

'My Father has been enslaved by the Lich King.' said Renault. 'I must avenge him and if possible free him from his bondage. If it was your father, would you not think as I do?'

'If I may, Prince Arthas, Renault and I have been friends since we were children.' said Sally. 'There is no more valiant a warrior that you will find among all the land.'

'Very well.' said Arthas. 'However, your purpose is to open the way so that our troops may sweep in. It is not to destroy Kel'thuzad. Remember your task.' He looked to Abbendis. 'Did you receive the prisoners I sent?'

'Yes.' said Abbendis. 'Bring them forth my daughter.'

A beautiful red-haired woman clad in armor led forward a large group of rough looking men. They bore no weapons and soldiers were not far off. Arthas walked forward, and the men looked at him doubtfully.

'Who are these men?' asked Varian.

'Prisoner,' said Arthas, 'emptied from the jails of Lordaeron. I have found a use for them.' He looked to the woman. 'Brigitte, have they been trained?'

"I have instructed them as you bade.' said Brigitte. 'They will fight well if they have the will for it. Yet I fear some may not remain faithful in battle.'

'Let me speak to them.' said Arthas and he walked before them. 'Men of Lordaeron, you have fallen far. You have been cast into prison. For murder. For thievery. For slander and treachery.

'And now you have the chance to redeem yourselves. Before us lies Stratholme, once a bright city of Lordaeron it has fallen into darkness. We will need every man to take it back. All of you were offered the chance to earn a pardon by fighting for us.

'Now I make that offer greater. Fight for us, and I vow, victorious or defeated, that each one of you shall be granted land. Land and equipment to make your own living. Or if you do not desire to farm for food, a single payment of money of no less than two hundred silver.'

This astounded the men. They gaped at him. Two hundred silver was no small amount. How did Arthas mean to pay these hundreds of men that much?

'Your crimes will be forgotten, and no man may hold them against you.' said Arthas. 'I do not ask you to fight for me. Fight for Lordaeron if you desire it, or for honor, if you wish it. Or even for yourselves. But fight. Prove the world wrong about you and the rewards will be great.'

The men nodded and took heart. Some for self-interest. Some for hopes of redemption. Some for reasons of their own. They were brought weapons and armor. Axes and hammers and shields and leather. They wore caps rather than helmets and Varian now knew why Arthas had made so generous an offer.

He was unlikely to have to pay more than a few. If even that.

These men did not look like soldiers. And they could not have more than a week or two of training at most. They were being sent in as cannon fodder, to soften the targets for those Arthas would rather not lose. And the force sent in were the more violent parts of the Scarlet Crusade. They were cannon fodder for the cannon fodder. Varian had a thought urged by his distaste for the situation.

First, he hesitated, then he was urged by something to speak without thinking. 'I will be first in the assault, Arthas. I'll lead these men to victory.'

'No.' said Arthas. His voice was cold and simple. It was a voice of a King.

'I am a King, Arthas. And you a Prince.' snapped Varian. 'When we met you hadn't even learned to fight. I will be the first.'

'The first assault in sieges always takes the worst casualties.' said Arthas. 'You must take the second assault and finish what they begin. There will be plenty more battle after that.' He glanced to Sally. 'Whitemane you will go with him.'

Varian resisted the urge to snap. Everyone acted as though he were a child to be protected and coddled. As Lothar had during the fall of Stormwind. As King Terenas had. Then he had been a boy. But he was not that boy anymore.

He opened his mouth.

'And what will you and I do, Arthas?' asked Sylvanas, coming up in a way that put her between him and Sally. She gave the white haired woman a withering look.

Arthas seemed to take note of it. Yet it seemed to amuse him, rather than be a cause for concern. He was pitting them against each other for his own amusement, the bastard. 'Sylvanas you and I will remain in reserve. I do not want to put our full force into the battle.' He paused. 'When this is finished will Quel'thalas need further aid?'

'I do not know.' said Sylvanas. 'I have heard that a new force has arisen to lead the scourge remnants in Quel'thalas. Mal'ganis sent necromancers to raise the dead and start new armies which are still a threat. Worse still a strange affliction has been affecting our people. They are being transformed into mockeries of themselves.

'Still, at least Dar'khan and he are now dead.'

'Maybe so,' said Arthas, 'however their legacy lives on.'

'Prince Arthas, Lord Muradin approaches!' called a soldier.

They looked up. Sure enough, there was Muradin coming from the west. He had with him an army of dwarves. There were also many soldiers who had fled toward Southshore. As Varian watched he saw his hopes of proving himself in the battle sink like a stone. Once again he was surrounded by experienced and powerful captains.

He felt worthless.

Arthas took no notice as he ran to his friend and clasped hands with him. 'Muradin I'm glad you could make it. I wanted to meet you on the battlefield.'

'Well the evil demigod and kingdom sized explosion put a wrench in that lad.' laughed Muradin. 'You've been more than a little busy. Still, we're in for the final stretch now I wager. Bring up the mortars lads and ready for siege.

'Marwynn take yer infantry and reinforce the front.'

Varian smiled as Arthas stiffened. A thin faced soldier came forward and Arthas looked to him. 'Marwynn? What are you doing here?'

'I uh…' Marwynn hesitated.

'When I arrived in Lordaeron I dispatched Lord Garithos to go to Lordaeron. To restore your Father to his throne.' said Varian, coming forward. 'You had no right to imprison him in his own land.'

'I had the right and the obligation.' snapped Arthas. 'Marwynn how went your mission?'

'There isn't a single graveyard around Lordaeron City which hasn't been burned, milord.' said Marwynn. 'Or in any of the surrounding lands. Once Faldine and I finished with that we started going after creep burial grounds. Just in case you know.'

'Faldine?' asked Arthas. 'She was a Captain of the Colonial Militia in the Northrend colonies wasn't she?'

'Yes.' said Marwynn. 'We've gotten close.

'Anyway, an army under Garithos arrived and the man told me that if I didn't let him in, he'd lay siege. He claimed he came under orders from the Alliance. I told him that if he was fool enough to attack Lordaeron City he and all his armies could break and die.'

Varian stopped smiling. 'You did what?! Have you gone so mad that you would raise your blades against fellow members of the Alliance?!'

Marwynn gave Varian a cold look. 'Lordaeron is no subject of Stormwind or the Alliance.' he said. 'This is not your nation, even if you lived here for a time. Had they tried to attack the walls I'd have broken him and his army and sent Garithos' head to you as a message.'

'And the Legion would have laughed, you fool!' said Varian. 'Such meaningless battles only play into their hands!'

'If you do not wish to go to war, King Varian, do not march up to the gates of a foreign nation in arms. Let alone demand they open their gates.' said Sylvanas. 'You are not High King of the Alliance and you have no right to interfere with internal matters. I expect the elves of Silvermoon would have had a similar response.'

'Unfortunately, the people turned against me.' admitted Marwynn. 'We did what we had to do but we weren't exactly popular. At first word of all the battles and victories kept them silent. But after the Battle of Immeasurable Loss, it became an opinion that the war was finally over for real. That turned opinion against me.

'At first, Garithos backed off, but it looked like he was going to lay siege. A paladin named Magroth the Defender and a Lord Nicholas Buzan staged a coup. Both of whom had been fighting the undead near Gilneas and defending refugees.

'I ended up thrown in prison while they let Garithos in. Then King Terenas came to me. He told me that if I wanted to redeem myself, I'd go with Prince Muradin and finish the job we started. Frankly, I think he just wanted me and my men gone. He didn't want to execute so many fighting men.'

'I managed to convince King Terenas to let you go, lad.' said Muradin.

'Whatever the case,' said Marwynn. 'I stand ready to serve once more, Prince Arthas.'

'What about Garithos?' asked Arthas.

'King Terenas ordered him to stay.' said Muradin. 'He is making plans. I think, lad, that your father wants some troops in reserve. And doesn't want them all under your command.'

'It hardly matters.' said Arthas. 'The immediate threat is nearly past. Once we've destroyed Stratholme we need only find the rest of the Legion. Muradin bring up the mortars and begin the bomardment.'

'Right you are lad.' said Muradin, before looking back. 'Get the boys ready, Baelgun. We'll give them a shelling to remember!'

Varian sheathed his blade as the mortars came forward to assemble themselves. Arthas looked at him in amusement. 'What?'

'You can sheathe your sword, Varian.' said Arthas. 'Bombardments take hours, even days. Not minutes. We're going to be here for awhile.'

At that moment an orange haired elf appeared in a teleport spell. He approached Arthas. 'Lady Sylvanas I have just come from Daelin Proudmoore. He stands ready to begin a sea bombardment whenever the call is sounded.' He saw Arthas. 'Prince Arthas you are here?'

'Yes.' said Arthas. 'Go to Daelin Proudmoore and tell him to open fire as soon as he sees a flare in the sky. For now, we need to assemble our forces.'

* * *

Baron Rivendare looked down from a high tower in Stratholme. Jubei'thos was with him. All preperations that could have been made had been made. Now the two were waiting in a brief moment of leisure. Alexandros Mograine was standing tall and silent, a runeblade in hand.

'Rivendare you fought in the Second War, did you not?' asked Jubei'thos, looking at his own runeblade. It had been a gift from Rivendare. 'What battles were you in? We might have done fought one another.'

'Southshore, Dun Modr, and also Blackrock Spire.' said Rivendare. 'Several other minor engagements. I proved myself in all of them. What about you?'

'I was at Southshore.' said Jubei'thos, eyes filled with memory. 'I was nine at the time.'

'Nine?' asked Rivendare.

'Gul'dan developed spells to turn children into adults.' said Jubei'thos. 'It was done in desperation during the First and Second War to fill out our armies. I was one such son. And yet I fought like a man. None were mightier than I on that field. Save perhaps Doomhammer.'

'Doomhammer? Oh yes, I remember him.' said Rivendare. 'I nearly got my head taken off by him actually. He broke my arm. After that, I became a marine under Grand Admiral Proudmoore. I gained his recommendation to King Terenas. I nearly became the Captain of Prince Arthas' royal guard.'

'Then how did you come here?' asked Jubei'thos.

'I was passed over for a peasant.' said Rivendare, eyes darkening. 'A commoner named Falric. Apparently, Prince Arthas had known him since he was a child and he had won some small measure of glory. Falric then brought in other commoners. I wasn't even given a position.'

'Ah, so you joined the scourge.' said Jubei'thos.

'Yes. I did.' said Rivendare, drawing up his own blade and looking somber for a moment. 'My friend, Kel'thuzad, arranged for me to get a position. One overseeing Stratholme's grain supply. Many years later I helped him spread the plague to Stratholme. I think I've more than paid back Lordaeron for the insult.

'But now the war is going badly. The Cult of the Damned remains in hiding. The Legion has been bloodied. I believe things may turn against us.'

'I've seen such things happen before.' said Jubei'thos. 'I was there at the defeat at Blackrock Spire. The Blackrock Clan endured and waited for a chance for vengeance. As the Legion taught us to.'

'Well you have more experience with them than I.' mused Rivendare. 'I know more of the walking dead than void spirits.' He looked out across the fields before Stratholme, then to the sea where the ships were arrayed. 'Look, the mortars have been brought up. Soon they will bombard us. We'll have to hold them here as long as we can.

Lord Alexandros are you ready?'

'I am.' said Alexandros, voice filled with hatred. 'The butcher of Stratholme will die by my hand. He and all who follow him.'

'Perfect.' said Rivendare.

The bombardment began.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

So it begins. I'm hoping to move the action to Kalimdor soon.


	21. News of Many Kinds

**Chapter Twenty-one: News of Many Kinds**

The distant noise of mortars and canon echoed throughout the land. It was loud, even this far back from the front lines. Varian wished he didn't have to make this call in these circumstances. Still, he had to do it sooner or later, and there had been no time to make it. He raised the amulet and sent forth the connection.

The viewing portal opened, and he saw his wife. Tiffin looked well. Her blonde haired was tied back behind her head in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a white. She smiled, then her smile faded. 'Varian, where have you been? I've been worried sick. Why did you rush off like that?'

'Tiffin, I'm sorry I didn't give you more warning before I left .like I did.' said Varian 'I just… I had this impulse that I was needed. I had to go.'

Tiffin sighed. 'Well, you're impulses caused quite a stir in Stormwind. Bolvar had to take over the negotiations with the Stonemasons.'

'Is it going well?' asked Varian, dreading the answer.

'I uh…' Tiffin paused, 'actually it's over.'

'What?' said Varian.

'Well your half brother, Prince Aiden Wrynn, came here from Westfall. He brought a contingent of dwarven riflemen. Bolvar was hesitant to let him in, but he said he needed only two days to sort out the whole business. He claimed he'd set out as soon as he heard you'd left.'

His brother had had a distinguished career in Stormwind's military. He'd fought in both the first and second wars. He'd crowned himself King of Stormwind at one point before Gul'dan had summoned Kazzak. Varian had given him Westfall to keep the former Defender of the Crown out of the way.

What was that old saying about when the cat was away?

'What did Aiden do?' asked Varian.

Tiffin hesitated to speak. For a moment she said nothing. Then she spoke. 'He called a meeting between the Stonemasons Guild and the Council of Nobles. The room he chose had a window facing an execution yard. He made them watch as he had a group of convicted criminals shot. Then he told them that they had three hours to come to a compromise everyone was satisfied with.

'He locked them in the room surrounded by armed guards and left. During those few hours, he made a number of grisly executions outside. They could actually hear the screams of dying criminals while they were meeting.'

This was far worse than anything Varian had ever dreamed of. '…He threatened to execute the Council of Nobles? Tiffin, please tell me you are joking.'

'I'm not. And it worked.' said Tiffin. 'Aiden can be terrifying when he wants to be. They were so scared witless of him they came up with an agreement in five minutes. They all knew what the price should have been. But the nobles didn't want to pay it, and the Stonemasons wanted more than their fair share.

'But Aiden didn't accept it. He said that the Crown had been forced to hire mercenaries in order to prevent a civil war. Then he said that the agreement must compensate it for the trouble. Then he let them rot for the next few hours. When he came back, the Council of Nobles offered the Crown massive sums of money. Drawn from their personal finances. And the Stonemasons offered free services for a number of future projects.

'Then Aiden let them go.'

'I can't believe that worked.' said Varian. King Terenas had taught Varian to rule with wisdom and words, not violence. Aiden preferred the direct approach. He'd done things to captured orcs so horrible that they didn't bear thinking about.

'It worked better than you'd think.' said Tiffin. 'The crowds found out that their leaders had promised free services to the Crown. They were furious. They almost lynched them. The leadership was only saved by guards Aiden had sent for their protection.

'The Stonemason leadership has been totally discredited. They won't be raising any new revolts any time soon. But nobody is rioting because they got what they wanted. And the Council of Nobles are shaking in their boots.'

'Where is Aiden now?' asked Varian. He'd have to talk to King Terenas about this when he had a chance.

'He's gone back to Westfall.' said Tiffin. 'Frankly, I'm glad he's gone. Whenever I'm around him, I feel a chill. Like I'm talking with death himself.'

'…I worked for years to try and come up with a solution to that situation.' said Varian miserably. 'And Aiden came up with one in a matter of days.' On every front, he was outdone.

'Yes.' said Tiffin. 'Because you're a better person than he is Varian.'

'What do you mean?' asked Varian.

'What do Aiden's Wrynn's methods say about him? His first reaction to someone causing him trouble was threaten?' asked Tiffin. 'He didn't even try any other solution. It didn't even occur to him that these people should settle their differences. In his mind, they inconvenienced the King and therefore had no rights.

Varian shook his head. '…Light above, I'm going to kill him when I next see him. Is there anything else?'

'No, things have been going smoothly.' said Tiffin. 'Anduin misses you terribly though. I wish you'd called earlier. He's asleep now. You upset him by leaving as you did.'

'I'll make it up to him when this mess is over, Tiffin.' said Varian. 'I promise. But there are things going on that I need to be there for. The people of Lordaeron have suffered horribly and… I feel like the people here are on the verge of going mad.

'Arthas is no exception.'

'He was always very kind to me when he visited.' said Tiffin.

'He's changed.' said Varian. 'He's cold and ruthless. His sense of humor has turned black as midnight and… he's become a warrior more than a knight. I always used to think of myself like his big brother. I was slightly older, but now he shreds through monsters like nothing.

'I'll be hard pressed to prove myself.'

'Just don't get so bent on proving yourself that you forget what is really important.' said Tiffin. 'Protect the people you love and come back home to me.'

'I know, Tiffin.' said Varian. 'I-'

The tent flap was pulled aside, and Marwynn looked in. 'Prince Varian, Arthas needs you at the front immediately.'

Varian sighed. 'I have to go, Tiffin. Give Anduin my love.'

He cut the connection.

* * *

The barrage had lasted more than half a day. Muradin had focused it on two specific parts of the wall. Stratholme had been pummeled nonstop from the land and from the sea. Arthas could see the flash of Daelin Proudmoore's canons time and again in the night sky. The spirit towers had been shattered, and the city was falling to pieces before their eyes. Now and then a mortar shot would go wide and blow the roof off a house, or pummel a destroyed building into dust.

Fires had begun to spread throughout what remained of the broken city. Yet there were no screams. Just eerie silence and the thunder of gunpowder. At the edge of the hilltop Sylvanas watched with him and Arthas every so often glanced to her. Their command was, for the most part, behind them, looking over plans and stratagems.

Things had been awkward of late. Why had he been so forward with Whitemane? He should have built things up more slowly. But he'd been stressed and tired. And she was a very beautiful woman, easily the equal of both Sylvanas and Jaina.

'…Priestess Whitemane certainly is beautiful.' said Sylvanas after a moment. 'Though her personality is somewhat slavish for my tastes. Are you courting her?'

'Don't be absurd, Sylvanas.' said Arthas. 'There is no romance to speak of.'

'Well she certainly seems to hold you in high regard.' said Sylvanas. Her gaze said she guessed Arthas' mind already.

This was awkward.

At that moment Muradin approached. The dwarf was drenched in sweat and coated in soot from overseeing the barrage. 'Hello, lad. The bombardment is going well.'

'Yes, it is!' said Arthas, louder than he intended. 'How are things going?'

'We've got one or two breaches in the wall now.' said Muradin 'And we've knocked out the spirit towers. You could see that with yer eyes though. We can stop whenever you like.'

'Keep it up.' said Arthas.

'Lad, how long?' asked Muradin.

'Until you run out of ammunition.' said Arthas.

Muradin bit his lip. 'That could be a while.'

'There won't be much of a city left at this rate.' noted Sylvanas.

'You needn't worry. I'm planning to compensate the citizens of Stratholme with a sum of ten thousand gold each.' said Arthas. 'They need only reform themselves from the ashes of their pyres and fill out the required forms.'

'Lad, that's a bit dark.' said Muradin. 'And too soon.'

'I suppose so.' mused Arthas.

At that moment Varian arrived, dressed for war. 'I'm here.'

'Good timing Varian.' said Arthas. 'I'll need you to take charge of your forces. We've broken two holes in the walls so the undead will have to divide their forces to cover both. I'm going to launch our assault on the leftmost one.'

'That seems wise.' said Varian. He looked eager to fight.

At that moment Tirion Fordring came forward. 'Prince Arthas, I ask that I be allowed to join the assault with the vanguard.'

'As you wish.' said Arthas. 'But I would focus on healing your own side. I do not want to lose another of the original paladin order so soon after Dalaran.'

'As you will.' said Tirion. 'The light will be of great help.'

'Abbendis are your forces prepared?' asked Arthas.

'Yes milord.' said Ricor. 'We stand ready to assault.'

'Good.' said Arthas. 'I expect you to ensure that you keep alive as many of your men as possible. You hold their lives in sacred trust. Do not waste them.'

'As you command, Prince of Light.' said Abbendis.

There was that cursed nickname. Arthas wished people would stop calling him that. He looked to where Tirion looked equally displeased. 'I would also ask that you take Tirion Fordring with you. His abilities may be of great help.'

Tirion nodded.

'What about you and me, lad?' asked Muradin.

'You'll remain behind as a reserve force.' said Arthas. 'I'll dispatch you to wherever you are needed most. Marwynn, you and Lady Sylvanas will remain behind as a rear guard. Keep an eye out for any attempt by the Legion to reinforce Stratholme. This is their only port. They need it to draw troops from Northrend.

'I'm surprised they haven't sent anything against us yet.'

'Prince Arthas!' cried Ricor. 'A blue dragon approaches!'

Arthas looked up. Sure enough, a massive blue dragon descended before him. He drew out his hammer, but even as it landed, it changed forms. It shifted into the guise of a stunningly beautiful elven woman. Her hair was blue and tied up into a ponytail. But she was dressed all in concealing black robes, as though in mourning. Under her left arm was tucked a book and she looked to have been crying recently. She bowed.

'I come in peace, Prince of Lordaeron.' she said. 'I have news for you.' Her eyes were haunted.

'Who are you, lady? And why do you seek to aid us?' asked Arthas, eyes narrowed. 'When last I saw the blue dragon flight they nearly dropped a mountain on my head?' It had been during his mission to destroy his own ships.

'I am Tyrygosa.' she said as if pained by some bad memory. 'Of the Blue Dragon Flight. My future mate, Kalecgos, is… dead. Murdered by the Legion. You slew his killer.'

'Mal'ganis.' guessed Arthas.

'Yes.' said Tyrygosa. 'The demon liberated us from the Kirin Tor, only to violate our minds to force us to serve his ends. When he was finished, Kalecgos was…' She halted. 'I've come to help you in return.' She offered him the book.

Arthas took it and flipped through it. Within it were many maps and notes on patrols and the layout of fortresses. They were very detailed. 'What is this?'

'Maps and notes.' said Tyrygosa. 'I have made them of the entire Blackrock Village and all the assembled hosts there. And I can tell you the Legion's plans.'

'Well, what are they?' asked Arthas.

'Archimonde lies in near death.' said Tyrygosa. 'The demons are trying to heal him, but they have thus far failed. His lieutenants are quarreling amongst one another. However a leader has assumed command, a Dreadlord named Anetheron. He plans the use the demon gate in the Blackrock Clan village to withdraw to Northrend.

'Even as we speak the Lich, Kel'thuzad, is working to achieve this.'

'We should go at once to cut them off.' said Isillian. 'We'll fall on them and tear them to shreds!'

'That's a way to travel lad, and we'd have to leave our backs to Stratholme.' said Muradin. 'The enemy would strike from behind. And we might never get there in time.'

'Muradin is right. Stratholme must be taken.' agreed Varian, who seemed glad to be correcting someone instead of the other way around. 'We cannot abandon the siege. Might we send word for Lord Uther to launch an assault?'

Arthas shook his head. 'The forces in Hearthglen are too weak to move now. We'll take the city then see if we can catch them before they complete their evacuation.

'Is there anything else?'

Tyrygosa said nothing. Her eyes were distant, and she was shaking. 'What?'

'Is there anything else?' repeated Arthas.

'Yes.' said Tyrygosa. 'The Dreadlords seem to have given up on a direct war. Their goal now is to subvert Lordaeron through other means. I don't know the details.'

'Wonderful.' said Arthas. 'You have been of great service this day, Tyrygosa. It sets my mind at ease to know Archimonde will not recover easily. He may even die if the demons don't have some means of healing him. If you wish you may stay here and rest for a time before you return to wherever you wish.

'But if you wish to further harm the Legion go now to your people in Northrend. Get all the news you can of what goes on in that place and bring it back to me. Tell me of the ogre clans and the ice trolls. Tell me of all who resist the scourge in that place.

'If we cannot prevent the Legion from fleeing, we may at least follow them. We might make alliances with the creatures who they threaten.'

She hesitated. 'Yes, very well. I'll do as you ask. Thank you. I won't rest here. Kalecgos would… he would have wanted me to move quickly.' She shook herself alert. 'Goodbye. And good luck.'

'To you as well.' said Arthas.

Even as he spoke she transformed into her dragon form and flew away over the ocean. Arthas sighed.

'Ice trolls and ogres?' asked Varian, distaste in his voice.

'There are tribes of them in Northrend.' said Muradin. 'My mates and I worked with em to survive the scourge before Arthas rescued us. They also helped on… well… various other missions.' He looked to Arthas. 'I like your thinking, lad. If we could make common cause with them in Northrend, they could be powerful allies.'

'Assuming we are in a position to invade Northrend.' said Tirion. 'Which I do not see to be the case. Nor am I sure it ever was.'

'Those are the words of a coward!' roared Isillian. 'No matter the foe, those who serve the light faithfully cannot be overcome! We shall wash over the hosts of the Legion and destroy their-'

'Enough.' said Arthas. 'Our task, for now, is to take back Stratholme. And nothing else matters until we do. Abbendis, begin the assault.'

* * *

It was a meeting of the three most senior demons left. It took place on the very peak of the mountain by the demon gate. Kel'thuzad could be seen in the background channeling spells into the portal. Mannoroth, now nearly recovered, stood across from Kazzak and Anetheron. The mighty pit lord had reforged his glaive anew. Now it had a handle of steel, rather than wood. Yet he bore scars where the Prince of Lordaeron and his captain had wounded him, and he walked with a limp.

'Why did you call this meeting, Kazzak?' asked Anetheron.

'I believe we should try to hold the Blackrock Village.' said Kazzak.

The Dreadlord glanced around at the various orcs. Most were trying to stay out from underfoot. A few warriors were strutting and preening as if to impress — small chance they had of that.

'Why?' asked Anetheron. 'These brutes are decimated. They will be of no further use.'

'It may still have value as an outpost.' said Kazzak. 'At the least, we may continue to observe events in Lordaeron. And there is no certainty that the Alliance even knows exactly where this is. In the time it takes for them to find us we may well establish enough of a foothold that they choose to leave us be.

'Especially once they realize we're gone. They may not think it worth the effort.'

'I see your point.' said Anetheron. 'And wholly abandoning the continent does not sit well with me. Yet who would you have stay?'

'I would leave the fortress in the charge of Varimathras.' said Kazzak. 'He has contacts with the ogres and trolls. He may be able to organize them to support him eventually.'

'Yes,' said Anetheron, 'I see the logic. Very well Kazzak. It shall be as you suggest. We will entrust him with the Blackrock Orcs-'

Mannoroth slammed the ground with his glaive. It shook, and a small crater was made in the ground. Anetheron took a step back. Kazzak merely eyed him in irritation. Why did Mannoroth have to show off so much?

'The Blackrock Orcs are mine!' roared Mannoroth. 'Their fate and actions are commanded by me and no other! I will not suffer any Dreadlord to wield that weapon which I forged with painstaking care!'

'And what would you have done with them, mighty Mannoroth?' asked Anetheron, annoyed.

'They will come with us to Northrend.' said Mannoroth. 'There I will forge such an army of them that no mortal will be able to whisper my name without terror.'

'That will take time.' noted Anetheron.

'Then I will speed the process!' roared Mannoroth. 'Do not question me, Dreadlord! You are in my domain now! And I have schemes of my own! My pets shall be bred into a worthy servant once more, and I will not tolerate your attempts to dispose of them!'

Anetheron wasn't going to question Mannoroth on this. Tichondrius would have been able to force Mannoroth to bow to his will. But then Tichondrius wouldn't have tried to command something belonging to Mannoroth. He would have instead made Mannoroth think it was his idea, to begin with.

'Very well.' said Anetheron. 'Kazzak when the portal opens you will bring Lord Archimonde through without delay.'

'As you command.' said Kazzak.

Kazzak suspected that the others would have used Archimonde's helplessness to kill him. They could have easily claimed the last spell of the Kirin Tor had done it. None would have been able to say otherwise. Mannoroth, for whatever intellect he possessed, was little more than a bloodthirsty brute. And Anetheron, a scheming coward.

Still, no one would harm Lord Archimonde. Now while Kazzak had strength.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Just for the record, this story follows roughly the same continuity as the Mercyverse. At least up until Arthas burns his ships. Thus you will see some of the same OC's. For those who don't know, Aiden Wrynn is not technically an OC. Rather he is the player character of Warcraft 1, the Defender of the Crown who becomes King in the human ending. In this continuity, he did become King, briefly. Then the Horde used demons to overrun Stormwind. Then Terenas choose Varian over him.

He is a ruthless orc fighter who uses atrocities to instill terror among the orcs — a sort of Alliance Counterpart to the more evil-minded orc chieftains.

Also, I regard Varian Wrynn as perhaps the worst leader in Warcraft History. At the least the worst leader who isn't actively trying to destroy his nation. And by the way, that list includes Garrosh Hellscream. He utterly failed to find a proper resolution to the Stonemason incident. All he had to do was threaten to kill them if they didn't get back in line. It would have saved more lives in the long run. But it doesn't end there.

His people are starving in Westfall, and he is starting costly wars. Not to mention building statues to himself. He defeats the Horde after a long and vicious struggle which he had a large part in starting for no good reason. And rather than stay true to his rhetoric he proves himself a hypocrite by not finishing the job. He spares Garrosh, and Garrosh goes right back to being evil. He refuses to dissolve the Horde, and the Horde goes right back to attacking the alliance.

Varian has dedicated his life to ensuring that war continues to devastate the world. He refuses to accept either a peace settlement from Jaina. Ir the complete destruction of his enemy, also from Jaina. His character arc only serves to make everything worse for everyone in Azeroth. I honestly think the Alliance would be better off if he'd never returned and died in a ditch somewhere.

In many ways, he is a representative of everything which is wrong with Blizzard's writing. Him and Garrosh both. But at least Garrosh isn't a complete fucking hypocrite. When he says, he wants something utterly destroyed he tries to utterly destroy it. Varian might technically be a better person than Garrosh, but I find him by far the more odious of the two.


	22. Victory and Loss

**Chapter Twenty-two: Victory and Loss**

The guns had stopped. The men, veteran and criminal alike shifted nervously. They thought of their cause. They thought of money. They thought of many things. Brigitte Abbendis held her sword at the ready.

The light was her guide. She knew it would not forsake her. Yet she still felt fear. Whenever she faced the undead she felt fear. Fear of becoming like them. Fear of losing her soul. But she knew she must stand against these creatures.

'Charge!' called Father.

And they did charge. The men of Lordaeron rushed forward. Ricor Abbendis and Tirion Fordring were at their head. The paladin shone with light and the men cried aloud as they rushed at the breach. Closer and closer they got and still nothing rose up to oppose them.

Then suddenly black arrows came flying from the breach. Skeletal archers were shooting down at them from the wrecked masonry. Several men fell dead before Brigitte's eyes. She raised her shield and caught an arrow upon it.

They were nearly at the breach now. And they could see their enemy. A massive undead orc stood there, holding a runeblade between two pale red hands. His eyes glowed with unholy light and behind him were vast hosts of undead.

The two sides charged to meet each other and battle was joined at the breach. Tiron Fordring swung about him with his hammer. Dozens of undead were slain in moments. Yet more fell before his light as he summoned it. In moments the first five rows of the undead were shattered. Then the orc slashed at him and Tirion was forced to defend himself.

Brigitte reached the enemy lines. She hacked down two ghouls and warded off a skeletons blade. Slashing the foul creatures head from its shoulders she waded forward. She was going to die. Soon she would be overwhelmed and she would die.

But she did not show it. Her Father she could see ahead of her, hacking his way forward. Tirion Fordring was there too, in the first moment he had unleashed his light. But the orc had come and matched and now paladin and undead blademaster were dueling back and forth. And Tirion was on the defensive.

Brigitte tried to cut through to her father. But she saw one of the men who sought redemption through battle fall. A ghoul was on him and he desperately sought to defend himself. Father could wait.

'Light, give me strength.' said Abbendis.

She grabbed the foul creature from behind and hauled it off. Bringing round her sword she sliced off the head of the beast. The man arose, axe in hand. 'Thanks lass.'

'We have no time!' cried Brigitte 'To my Father! To Ricor Abbendis!'

Isillian could be see throwing around the light in vengeful bursts. Renault Mograine was laying about him with his hammer on horseback. Wherever they walked, their enemies fell. And there was Taelon Fordring bashing his way through the undead. An axeman hewed down a ghoul, while another stood over the body of his comrade, fending off all who would defile it.

The combat between Tirion and the Blademaster was coming to an end. Tirion's shield was bashed down and he was stab in the stomach. The blade went deep and came out the other side. The paladin gasped and fell back. But before the Blademaster could finish him Taelon Fordring leaped before the blow. He warded it off with his shield. The orc stepped back, and looking around him, raised many undead and then drew back.

Brigitte called a battle cry and rushed into the fray with new strength. The undead defense was breaking! They were driving them in!

Even as they poured through the breach, however, there was a battle cry. On came a figure Abbendis knew well. Yet he was now a twisted mockery of what he had once been. Alexandros Mograine charged forward upon a skeletal steed. With him came many abominations. They were all going to die.

'Stand your ground!' cried Father. 'We must hold the breach!'

And then Alexandros was on him. His runeblade fell downward. Father raised his shield. The runeblade struck the corner of the shield and cleaved straight through. Deep into the body of Ricor Abbendis fell the blade of Alexandros. The death knight drew it out, and unreadable expression on his face. Then he hewed around him and with one blow struck off the heads of three men.

'Father!' screamed Brigitte.

In that moment nothing else matter. She rushed forward while the men backed away. She ran toward her Father, even as Mograine moved onward.

Brigitte saw an abomination coming toward her as she rushed to Father. She ducked under its blade and cleaved its leg from its body. It fell downward but she paid it no heed. Another barred her path and brought down a massive cleaver. Brigitte stepped aside and stabbed upwards into its face. She dragged out the blade and hewing it in half from the head down.

Stepping between the halves she found a ghoul stooping over her Father. Bringing down her sword she cut off its head and bashed it away. Falling by Father's side she looked at the wound. It was deep and bleeding heavily.

'Priest!' she screamed. 'Isillian come quickly!'

But Isillian was not listening. He was in the middle of the fray, casting the light about him. He had no regard to those who were wounded or killed. He threw the light of retribution and slew many while his comrades were dying around him.

'Someone help!' she screamed.

'Brigitte…' said Father, voice breathless.

'Father stay conscious!' cried Brigitte. 'The priests will be here soon!'

But she knew it wasn't true. Alexandros was hacking down men by the dozens. The undead came on thicker and thicker. Where was Tirion? Did he yet live?

'Brigitte…' said Father. 'Get out of here. Don't… don't die in this… wretched place…'

'No!' cried Brigitte. 'I won't abandon you, just hold on!'

But Ricor Abbendis did not speak again. His hand fell limp. Brigitte became aware that around her were coming ghouls by the hundreds. The final wave to drive in the vanguard and destroy them utterly.

Snatching up her sword she screamed and cut down the first to come. The next she bashed away with her shield. The third she beheaded. On and on they came and Brigitte hacked them down one after another.

Vaguely she was aware of Isillian crying the lights curses. But she did not look her way. She held her ground. She fought. She killed. And vaguely she became aware that a knot of men had gathered to aid her. A circle was formed around the body of Ricor Abbendis and all that came before it died.

Abbendis saw Isillian still fighting. Yet as the other men rushed to join the circle, the zealous priest paid no heed. Dozens of enemies were being slain by him every moment. Yet he was being hemmed in.

Then came Alexandros Mograine. He brought down his sword. Isilian raised his staff for a spell. The Isillian fell headless to the ground. Alexandros took up the head and rode back to stand before them.

There came a pause in the battle. The undead no longer pressed forward. Alexandros threw the head of Isillian to land at their feet. 'See now the fate of all who oppose the scourge!' he cried, brandishing his blade. 'Those that have been slain here shall arise again!'

'Believe what you will, abomination!' cried Brigitte, 'You will not defile the body of my Father.'

'Fool.' said Alexandros, eyes blazing. 'All shall be defiled and all will serve the scourge!'

'Not so long as the Prince of Light stands against you!' cried a voice, zealous in tone.

Sally Whitemane rode into the breach, her silver hair flowing around her. The light emanated from her staff. She sent forth a wave of light which Alexandros countered. For a moment the two's wills contended. Light and darkness fought for supremacy. Then came King Varian on horseback, two swords in hand. He rode down the front line, hacking down his enemies. Knights came behind him en masse and behind them many infantry.

The undead were driven in. Yet more soon came to replace them and Alexandros and Varian met in battle. Their swords clashed, moving faster and faster. At the same time Sally Whitemane rode among the scourge. Raising her staff Brigitte felt the cuts and bruises on her body heal. The men cheered as the enemy was overrun.

Alexandros' blade was turned and a blade was driven into his heart. But he was no living creature that died to so petty a blow. With one armored fist he knocked Varian from his horse into a crowd of ghouls. Brigitte rushed forward toward the ghouls, but Varian was up in seconds. His blade was slashing so quickly she could hardly follow it. Even as she reached him all were dead.

Alexandros drew the sword from his heart and threw it aside. Then riding toward Varian he swung his blade. Varian ducked and struck at the death knights horse. But Alexandros rode onward and turned to ride him down again.

'Face me on foot, Alexandros!' cried Varian. 'Or did all courage leave you with your life?'

Alexandros halted and for a moment Brigitte thought he would dismount. He would face Varian in single combat. However, at that moment Renault rode up with his hammer. He swung it with grin on his face and Alexandros warded off the strike. Yet rather than fight back he drew back.

For a moment Alexandros and Renault faced each other. The death knight's expression looked torn. As though he were struggling. Then raising his sword withdrew. Renault looked furious and was after him in a flash and was gone.

Varian retrieved his sword.

Brigitte walked to him. 'King Varian are you alright?'

'Yes,' said Varian, retrieving his blade, 'who is in command? Where is Ricor?'

'My Father is dead.' said Brigitte. 'So is Isillian and many of my warriors. Tirion Fordring was wounded when last I saw him. I do not know his fate.'

'This day extracts a heavy toll.' said Varian. 'Tirion Fordring is alive. His son managed to heal him, however, the wound was heavy and it exhausted him to heal it. Keep your men here and keep the breach open. You've fought enough for one day.' He paused. 'See to the dead.'

'Yes milord.' said Brigitte. She turned to her soldiers. 'Well done men. No man has shown more courage than you men today. Because of your valor, this battle will be won!'

A ragged cheer came from the men. Those that were still standing. And it was a small number.

'Now we must burn these dead.' said Brigitte. 'And see to our wounded.'

See to their wounded. She could have saved Father. If she had been able to wield the light she could have saved him. But she had not been able to. And now he was dead.

* * *

Renault had been mere moment away from ending the bastard and he had fled. In a fury, he rode his horse onward. Yet wherever he followed Alexandros the death knight withdrew. He fought against weak targets. Renault cut down one monstrosity after another, yet wherever he went Alexandros fled.

Finally, Alexandros halted and turned to face him. Renault brought his horse to a halt.

'Face me coward!' Renault roared.

Alexandros remained silent for a moment. He seemed to be fighting something. His blackened hand held the reigns of his undead steed tightly. 'Renault… run. Leave this place and I will allow you to live.'

'Run?' asked Renault. 'You expect me to cower before you?' He laughed in scorn. 'I have been cowering before you all my life, Father! I won't do it again!'

Then he spurred his horse forward and brought around his hammer. Alexandros raised his runeblade and parried the blow. In an instant Renault's hammer recoiled and the blade came around. Alexandros struck him with the flat and he reeled in the saddle. Renault brought his hammer up again but Alexandros caught the haft mid-strike.

Renault summoned the light. And it was quenched by the darkness.

Alexandros threw him to the ground and loomed over him. His runeblade went to Renault's throat. 'You cannot win, Renault.' said Alexandros. 'Do not force me to destroy you. Even if by some miracle you were to overcome me the undead around us would tear you apart.'

Renault looked around. Although he could distantly hear the sound of combat he could see no soldiers of the Alliance. All around him in every alley of this forsaken street the undead were clustered. Held back only by the will of Alexandros Mograine.

He'd left his allies far behind. Renault felt terrified. Terrified as he had been so many times when Mother was alive and Darion had yet to be born. Memories of the screaming, the rages, the bruises his father had healed with false remorse. Bruises that he had inflicted.

Nothing had changed. The blade was removed from his throat.

Renault stood up and took hold of his horse's bridle. Alexandros looked down at him with flaming eyes. 'Go now. While I still allow it.'

A path opened in the undead. Renault would still kill him. But not today. This would not be their last meeting. He mounted his horse and rode through the gap.

Rivendale received Alexandros in his office as he gathered files. 'Well you seem to have been busy.' he said. 'I note that your son is not among us.'

'He is just a boy.' said Alexandros.

'A boy who could have made an excellent death knight.' shot back Rivendale. 'The next time you meet I expect you to kill him and get him into the family business. Is that clear?'

'…Yes.' said Alexandros.

'Wonderful.' said Rivendare. 'Now all we need do is wait for Jubei'thos and-'

The door opened. Jubei'thos stepped in. His blade was drenched in blood. 'The Kul'tirans have come. They landed on the docks and are rampaging through the city. We'll be overrun soon.'

'Well we knew that was going to happen eventually anyway.' said Rivendare. 'We've tied up the bulk of the Alliance forces in Lordaeron for a few days.'

At that moment there was a spell cast. Blue energy surged upwards and Lord Antonidas appeared. He walked in, staff in hand. 'I have evacuated the core of our forces. You three are the last remaining undead in Stratholme who are difficult to replace.'

'What now?' asked Jubei'thos.

'Now,' said Antonidas, 'we go to Northrend. Your clan will join you there soon enough.'

He cast a spell, and they were gone.

* * *

The battle was over. Arthas had not taken a direct hand in the combat. He hadn't needed to. Alexandros and the scourge leadership had escaped. However, the city had been purged for good this time. Even now the last of the undead were being swept away. As Arthas walked amid the wreckage beneath a new morning sun, he saw Grand Admiral Proudmoore. He was giving orders of his own.

Arthas approached.

'Daelin Proudmoore,' said Arthas, 'I'm glad you could make it.'

'Well these foul abominations needed to be destroyed.' said Daelin. 'And I'd run out of fleets to obliterate. I've been scouring the coast of Northrend for their shipyards. When I find them, I'll burn them to the waterline.

'I assure you, Prince Arthas, the undead won't make another invasion by sea.'

'That's reassuring.' said Arthas. 'Our casualties were fairly low in terms of numbers. However, we lost some valuable men.' He paused and looked to Marwynn. 'Marwynn we will make a statue to Ricor Abbendis and Isillian here. A monument honoring those who died.' He hadn't actually liked Isillian all that much. The man had been a bit of a maniac who had caused trouble with his zealousness. But he would make a fine martyr.

'Alright,' said Marwynn. 'though this is usually Falric's job. Where is he?'

'In charge of Hearthglen.' said Arthas 'He was the only person I could trust with the task.'

'What of Lord Uther?' asked Daelin.

'The situation has changed.' said Arthas 'Uther has demonstrated that there are some orders I give he won't follow. I need someone who will obey without question if I must do the worst.'

Daelin looked around. 'Ah, so the rumors were true.'

'I don't need to hear moral condemnation.' said Arthas 'I've heard it dozens of times, so there isn't anything more to be said.'

'I must see to my forces.' said Daelin 'Stars be with you.'

They went their separate ways. Arthas made his way among the men, congratulating some, healing others. Many cheered when they saw him. From the awe in which they held him one would think he had vanquished the enemy single-handed.

Then he said Brigitte Abbendis. Her eyes were distant and she was pacing restlessly. Then she walked forward and fell to one knee before him. 'Prince Arthas, I beg of you. Please train me as a paladin.'

Arthas paused. Then he laughed. 'Brigitte Abbendis, I am the last person who should be training anyone as a paladin.'

'But you are the hero of Lordaeron.' said Brigitte 'The slayer of Mal'ganis. It is only thanks to you that we have held out.'

'I have done what is necessary.' said Arthas 'And I have done many things I am not proud of. But even if I felt qualified to take on students I wouldn't have the time. Go to Lord Uther in Hearthglen. If you desire to be a paladin I shall give you a letter to take to him requesting he take you for instruction.

But it will not be easy. The path of light requires one to make sacrifices. Sacrifices which sometimes are more than one can bear.'

'I don't care.' said Abbendis 'I never want anything like what happened to my father to happen again. I want to protect people from the scourge. To drive the forces of darkness before me and slay those who prey on the innocent.'

'Then I'm sure you'll make a fine paladin.' said Arthas. 'You have my blessing.'

'Sir,' said Marwynn, 'I don't think that is a good idea.'

'Why not?' asked Arthas.

'We're short-staffed as it is.' said Marwynn, 'And Brigitte is the only officer left in her force. It is never a good idea to destabilize the existing command structure of a military group. There has to be a sense of continuity or the men won't respect them.'

'Right, of course.' said Arthas. He could assign her to Fordring, but he wasn't sure he wanted to have to ask the man for help. Technically he had no right to command Fordring in matters of faith. 'Very well Brigitte, I will teach you as best I can in my spare moments. When the time is right I will send you to Uther for further instruction.'

Abbendis nodded her face the epitome of faith. 'I understand, Prince of-'

'And don't call me that.' said Arthas.

'I'm sorry milord I was only-' she began.

'Just don't.' said Arthas.

'Arthas!' called a voice.

Arthas looked up to see Varian approaching. 'We'll have to continue this discussion later, milady.'

Arthas walked to meet his friend. He'd heard that Varian had killed many undead singlehanded. His friend looked in a fine mood. Probably because there had been no one to overshadow him in the conflict. 'Varian, I've just heard news from the mortars. They tell me their guns weren't working. That you brought down the walls of Stratholme by sheer willpower.'

'They are only exaggerating a little.' said Varian with a smile. 'We've purged most of the undead. And our casualties are low.' He halted. 'Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about.'

'What is it?' asked Arthas.

'Your man, Renault.' said Varian. 'During the battle, I got into a duel with Alexandros Mograine. I held my own fairly well, but in the middle of it his son came in and interfered. Now I don't hold that against him. I could have been killed though it wasn't a sure thing. What I take issue with is that when Alexandros retreated Renault pursued.'

'What's your point?' asked Arthas.

'He was assigned to Abbendis' unit, wasn't he?' said Varian. 'That unit was in no shape to pursue. There were a great many wounded, and many of their healers were killed. He left them behind. He didn't even glance at them.

'Now ordinarily I'd leave the matter to the highest ranking officer in the unit. But it lacked a formal command structure and the leaders were all killed. I would discipline him myself, but he is part of the Scarlet Crusade. It has a different command structure that answers only to you.'

'Ah.' said Arthas.

He'd need to discuss this with his officers.

* * *

Renault Mograine had escaped from the undead and found the battle over. A great many people had given him up for dead. He'd killed a great many undead during the fighting. And then he had promptly found himself facing a summons by Prince Arthas.

He had no idea why exactly he was being called. But he could guess. When he had first attack Alexandros, he had been fighting a dismounted Varian Wrynn. Perhaps word had gotten out that he had saved a King and he was to be commended.

He entered the tent and found Prince Arthas looking at a map. His face was stoney, and he did not look up.

'Prince Arthas,' said the soldier, 'Renault Mograine for you.'

'Yes,' said Arthas, 'thank you. Please ensure we are not disturbed.'

'Yes, sir.' The soldier left.

For a long moment, Arthas remained silent, looking at the map. Finally, he looked up. 'I am told you abandoned your post in battle, Renault.'

Renault stiffened. 'Prince Arthas, may I ask who is spreading such rumors.'

'I have no time for that.' said Arthas flatly.

'Milord,' said Renault, 'I only ask-'

'Quiet.' hissed Arthas.

Renault stiffened in his gaze. He almost wondered if he had been turned to stone with the way Prince Arthas was looking at him. It was cold and without emotion. Filled with judgment. He wished he were anywhere else.

'Sir Mograine,' said Arthas, 'you are a paladin of the Silver Hand. Your task is to be at the front of every battleline and the rear of every retreat. Your duty is to stand with your brethren. To provide them protection from dark magic and healing for their wounds.

'How precisely were you planning to do that from the opposite side of Stratholme?'

'I…' Renault hadn't been thinking. 'My Father he… he was turned into one of the undead. I wanted to free him from the curse.'

'And did you?' asked Arthas.

'…No,' said Renault, 'he was too powerful.'

'Then it would seem a great many good men died for nothing.' said Arthas. 'I'm sure their grieving loved ones will appreciate your good intentions, however.'

'Prince Arthas I-' began Renault.

Arthas silenced him with a hand. 'Maybe you didn't understand what it meant when I allowed you to join the assault. Very well, I will clarify. You sir, and all paladins, are the rock upon which the armies of the Alliance are built.

'Without the light, our steps falter. That has happened today. There had best not be a repeat.'

Renault struggled to speak. 'Prince Arthas, give me the chance to redeem myself. Set me any task and-'

'I have told you I have no time for this!' roared Arthas in sudden fury. 'There is another battle coming Renault. Perhaps the decisive battle of this war. We will need you and all the other paladins. And I cannot afford to have my healers acting like orcish berserker.' His voice became quieter. 'I understand that you have personal feelings regarding Alexandros Mograine. He is your father. But one thing I have learned is that we cannot allow our personal feelings to make us abandon our comrades.

'Take what has happened here today and learn from it.' He turned away. 'I will let the matter pass — this time. In penance, you will stand vigil over Tirion Fording and ensure his condition does not worsen. The Blademasters weapon dealt a wound that is very difficult to heal.'

'I understand, milord.' said Renault.

Arthas smiled. 'Get out.'

Renault bowed. Then turned and left the tent. He'd had a narrow escape. He would have to make sure he never made that mistake again. His career depended on it.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

So this chapter is a few hours late. I had trouble writing it. It doesn't really focus much on Arthas or the main characters really. Oh well.

It's somewhat ironic that Arthas is giving this speech. After all, in canon, he would do well to hear it himself.


	23. Plans for the Future

**Chapter Twenty-three: Plans for the Future**

Arthas, Varian, Sylvanas and the rest of the command staff made their way out of the gates of Stratholme. Above them, the flag of the Alliance flew tall and proud. And beside it was the flag of the Scarlet Crusade. They made their way back to their camp. Even now the men were beginning to ready themselves for another journey.

'We've regained control here, Varian.' said Arthas. 'We'll rally the men and begin preparations to assault the Blackrock Clan village.'

At that moment Marwynn appeared. 'Arthas we have a problem. There is a royal messenger here to see you.'

Arthas sighed. '…Damn.'

'I didn't know anything about this.' said Varian.

The messenger arrived, and Arthas did his best to look presentable. 'Greeting emissary. How may I aid you?'

'My royal edict, Prince Arthas, you are to appear before King Terenas in Hearthglen.' said the emissary. 'He wishes to speak with you regarding the future of Lordaeron and also your own. I have also been tasked by Kael'thas Sunstrider to call on Sylvanas Windrunner to appear as well.'

'This doesn't bode well.' said Sylvanas.

'You are to leave your armies behind.' said the messenger.

Arthas sighed. 'Wonderful. I knew this would happen. Varian, I want you to take command here and go in my stead. I've had Krasus send Uther a message. Speed is essential. But if Archimonde appears before you the image of perfect health, let Uther handle it.

'Lady Whitemane, Lady Abbendis, you will come with us.' He looked to Marwynn. 'Marwynn, stay with Varian and keep things running. Muradin…' He pointed at the dwarf.

'Yes, lad?' asked Muradin.

'Go easy on the Legion will you?' asked Arthas. 'They've had a bad week.'

Muradin laughed. 'I'll use kid gloves on em, lad.'

The journey began in a blur. As they walked, Abbendis looked somewhat awkward. 'Prince Arthas, why did you request my presence?'

'Well, I thought I might begin your instruction while we're on the road.' Arthas lied. 'Your forces are on leave anyway, so I don't see the harm.'

'Very well.' said Brigitte. 'I am ready to learn.'

Arthas thought about how to approach this. 'The first thing you need to know about the light is that it responds to your state of mind. If you are driven by anger, then it will be better at dispensing retribution. If you are in a state of despair, you will not be able to summon it as easily. In a moment of great confidence, when you are less conflicted, it will be far stronger.'

'Why?' asked Brigitte. 'Doesn't the light want us to succeed?'

'That's a hard question.' mused Arthas. 'Some people, the Silver Hand, for instance, believe that the light is sentient. A benevolent force which defends and protects us. Others, like the Kirin Tor, claim it is merely another kind of magic.

'I've never decided for myself, but I tend toward the former.

'Lady Whitemane would you care to explain the nature of the light?'

Whitemane stiffened with pride. 'With pleasure, Prince of Light. The light is the omnipotent power source which grants us the strength to rid the world of those that oppose it. By its will, we purge the unclean and lay waste to all they hold dear. Yet do not believe that they have escaped our wrath when we have ended their worthless existence.

'Unimagined shall be the torments inflicted upon them in the next life! Such horrrors and tortures shall be put to them that would make even the demons weep with horror! And the faithful shall look upon these worthless unbelievers and know true joy! Made all the more magnificent from the tormented screams of-'

'Thank you Lady Whitemane!' said Arthas quickly. 'I believe I can handle things from here.'

'As you command, Prince of Light.' said Sally, beaming with pride.

'Don't listen to her, she is… overzealous.' said Arthas in a lower tone.

'Isillian often spoke in such a manner.' mused Brigitte. 'He preached that it was our duty to pass judgment on the enemies of the light.'

'I'm sure he did.' said Arthas. 'However, that is only one part of the light. One of a triumvirate of ideals, if you will. Isilian obviously subscribed to retribution. The idea that the wicked must not go unpunished for misdeeds. But of equal importance is protection and healing. Protection is fending off those who would do the innocent harm. Healing is mending the damage done by the wicked.

'All three have to be kept in balance, or you stray from the path. Or so the creed goes. But before you even get that far, the first thing you need to do is have faith.'

'That doesn't sound difficult.' mused Brigitte.

'It's a lot harder than it sounds, Brigitte.' said Arthas. 'Faith isn't measured by what you believe when the sun is shining, and all is right with the world. It is measured by what you do when the world is utterly dark, and everything is going wrong.

'It also takes practice. You need to learn to focus the power of the light through you, even after it is granted to you. When I first became a paladin, I had very limited abilities. After my first battle against some forest trolls in Quel'thalas, I was able to wield it better.

'I did a bit of knight-errantry. I was rescuing children from gnolls, defeating bandits, that sort of thing. In the process, I mastered the power I had. And the light granted me more of it.'

'It gave you more?' inquired Brigitte.

'Yes. The light isn't like sorcery where you use your inherent power to draw on magic.' said Arthas. 'And it isn't like shamanism or druidism where you gain strength from nature by being in tune with it. And it definitely isn't like fel magic where you draw your power from the darkness or drain it from others.

'The light is, as far as we know, infinite in power. It grants its strength to those who it deems worthy of it and in its own time. Of course, some people claim this is due to subconscious belief in one's own path. But I don't believe that idea. It seems like the sort of thing a Wizard would make up to avoid having to face the possibility of a higher power.

'Anyway, as I fought against the enemies of Lordaeron I mastered the power. But then the plague happened. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn't save everyone. No matter how much I tried to avenge those who died, my enemies were one step ahead. And my friends abandoned me.

'I became obsessed with punishing Mal'ganis for what he had done. I strayed too far into retribution. I followed him all the way to Northrend. But when my army was called back there came a point where I would have to burn my men's ships to stop them from leaving. I couldn't do it, so I returned home.

'But once I abandoned the path of retribution my faith was shattered. My desire for revenge had been the only thing keeping my confidence. My powers diminished.'

'So how did you regain your power?' asked Brigitte.

'I…' Arthas considered the question. 'I suppose I grew up. I realized that I wasn't going to be able to save everyone. I accepted the fact. And I decided to keep trying. I kept pushing, and little by little I got my power back. Then when I fought Mal'ganis, everything clicked into place.

'I slew him. I punished him and many other demons for their atrocities. And I became stronger than ever before. I guess I'm glad the light believes in forgiveness.'

Brigitte remained silent for a long time. '…I think I understand what you mean, Prince Arthas. I saw Isillian in battle. He slew many undead. But he was so obsessed with destroying his enemies that he paid no heed to his friends. He was surrounded and cut down.

'My Father always tried to keep him grounded. But he lost himself.'

'I almost lost myself as well.' admitted Arthas. 'It's a risk you run, fighting monsters. Or so I assume.' He looked to Sylvanas. The beautiful elf woman was biting her nails and looking around nervously. 'Sylvanas are you alright?'

'What? Yes!' said Sylvanas too quickly. 'Just uh… I've been feeling strange lately. Like… like there is something gnawing at me from the inside.'

'I am a qualified healer.' said Arthas. 'I might be able to help.'

'That's a little bold isn't it?' asked Sylvanas.

'Well I am well known for my courage.' said Arthas. 'But I was being quite serious. If you are sick, you should see a healer.' Raising a hand, there was a flash of light. Sylvanas stiffened for a moment. 'Did that help?'

'It… it drove it back a bit.' admitted Sylvanas. 'But I still feel a, a hunger of sorts in my mind. I heard that those elves who suffered from that sickness also described a hunger. It is… I feel like there is some part of me which has been torn out or corrupted.'

'The Sunwell?' guessed Arthas.

'Yes.' admitted Sylvanas. 'The Sunwell. For as long as I've lived I've had its energies inside me. But I never noticed. Not it's gone. And I feel… I feel wretched.'

'The Kirin Tor may be able to cure you.' mused Arthas. 'They know more about arcane magic than I.'

'Like they cured the plague of undeath?' asked Sylvanas.

'The plague was deliberate.' said Arthas. 'It was engineered to be incurable. What is happening to your people seems more like a side effect of the Sunwell's loss.'

'What would you know about it?' asked Sylvanas in annoyance. 'You're a human.'

'Look I'm just guessing here, but the Sunwell gave you a constant stream of magical energy didn't it?' asked Arthas.

'Yes.' said Sylvanas warily.

'Well when humans drink a lot of alcohol and then stop they suffer withdrawal symptoms.' said Arthas. 'I should know. I've had to treat them when I was training with Uther.'

'The Sunwell is not a drug!' snapped Sylvanas.

'I know. But the principle is the same.' said Arthas. 'You've had something inside you for so long that you become reliant on it. It's like if you had a friend for years who you relied on to always be there for you who suddenly abandoned you. It takes a long time to recover.'

'So how do you cure it?' asked Sylvanas.

'Um, well, this metaphor is kind of breaking down.' admitted Arthas. 'But there really isn't a cure to withdrawal symptoms. It happened to the Orcish Horde too when they were cut off from unholy magic. They just had to learn to live without it.

'And since we've been putting up with their raids for fifteen years I imagine they recovered.'

'But we can't just…' Sylvanas paused, 'the orcs were only corrupted for a few generations Arthas. The high elves have had the Sunwell since before recorded history! We can't just get over something like that!'

'…Okay, good point.' admitted Arthas. 'I… we could try to find some sort of supplement.'

'Supplement?' asked Sylvanas.

'Yes, an alternate source of magic that you could use instead.' said Arthas. 'I'll talk to Rhonin about it as soon as we get in.'

They traveled onwards for some days. At night Arthas worked to instruct Brigitte in how to summon the light and Sally helped in that regard. Brigitte learned fast, faster than Arthas had. She was able to heal small cuts by the time they came within sight of Hearthglen.

'Ah, here we are. ' said Arthas as they walked through the gates.

He was met by Captain Falric with an honor guard, all clad in the red of the scarlet crusade. The Captain bowed as Arthas approached. 'Prince Arthas. King Terenas wishes to speak with you at once.'

'Very well.' said Arthas. 'Abbendis, Whitemane, Sylvanas, wait here.'

* * *

Arthas was led into the town hall and into a round meeting room. At the center by the table sat his father. King Terenas' hands were clasped together, and his eyes were closed. As Arthas entered, he opened them. 'Hello, my son.'

'I'm not going to apologize.' said Arthas. 'If I hadn't done what I did Lordaeron would be in ashes.'

'I thought you'd say that.' said Father. 'Do you believe the immediate crisis is over?'

'I have reason to believe that the Legion is withdrawing to Northrend, yes.' admitted Arthas. 'However, they will return unless they are stopped. My forces are gathering to assault the Blackrock Clan in the Alterac Mountains. If we strike swift and hard this way may be over at the end of the next battle.'

'Then I won't interfere.' said Father. 'However, I have a condition.'

'Condition?' asked Arthas.

'Yes.' said Father. 'You should have never been given this level of responsibility this soon. If I'd known that the plague was this serious I should have sent someone else. You have done very well, given your circumstances, but the position was granted too soon.'

'I'm well aware, Father.' said Arthas, though he didn't regret his assignment.

'Captain Falric has informed me of the situation.' continued Father. 'This… Scarlet Crusade, could be a powerful force for good. However, I am concerned about you. When was the last time you had a chance to rest?'

'…I can't remember.' admitted Arthas. 'I think it was after defeating the Blackrock Clan.'

'Precisely.' said Father. 'You are a very competent commander, my son, but no one can see the horrors you have indefinitely and stay sane. You've been teetering on edge for months. And sometimes I have wondered if you hadn't slipped off.

'I will allow you to drive the Legion from Lordaeron. However, once that is over, I am going to give you an assignment which takes you far from the front lines. You've done more than enough, and there are others who can take your place. Let Varian earn his spurs.'

'I intended to.' mused Arthas. 'I don't expect the Legion will strike again anytime soon, even if they do escape.'

'Good.' said Father. 'I didn't want to have to force the issue. Now there is one other matter we need to discuss. The others should arrive soon.'

The door opened, and Arthas looked up to see someone he had never wanted to see again. He nodded his head in curtesy. 'Prince Kael'thas.'

'Prince Arthas.' said Kael'thas, with a similar nod.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Eventually, Krasus entered behind them. 'Gentlemen perhaps you could sit down.'

Kael'thas and Arthas obeyed. Krasus followed suit and Rhonin came in to sit down as well. Father drew up some reports and spoke: 'First the good news. We've managed to salvage a great many books from the ruins of Dalaran. It seems the undead went out of their way to avoid destroying them. So we should be in a position to train a new generation of Magi. Our position here is also secure.

'The undead are by all accounts in full retreat. And if the assault on the Blackrock Clan village succeeds, we should be able to regard the matter settled. For now.

'Unfortunately, that is where the good news ends. Lordaeron is devastated. Vast acres of fields are blighted and corrupted. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands are dead. And with all the ruined land there will be famine and starvation once the grain supply runs out.

'Ordinarily, the massive loss of life would have allowed some of these people to be resettled. Unfortunately with most of Dalaran's population saved we no longer have enough land.

'Which brings me to Dalaran.'

'Dalaran is now a wasteland.' said Krasus sadly. 'Nothing lives there anymore. Worse still, it is not even safe to walk across it. The entire area is infested with dense clouds of mana and the demonic portal on the hill lets in fel energy. It could take centuries for the clouds to fade down from our victory.

'So, what are we to do?'

'We should resettle Northrend.' said Arthas.

Dead silence. '…You must be joking, my son.' said King Terenas. 'You yourself regretted setting up colonies in that abysmal land.'

'That was before I knew what was in that land.' said Arthas. 'The scourge originated in Northrend. We need to have the ability to observe and influence that land. With the experiences of the original colonists surviving there should be far easier.'

'I agree with Prince Arthas.' said Kael'thas.

'You do?' asked Rhonin in surprise.

'I do not like the idea of making anyone stay in that forsaken land.' said Kael'thas. 'But we cannot afford to leave it as a blind spot. We should assemble Arcane Observatories to watch the scourge and their demon masters.'

'In the process, we should assail Drak'theron Keep and destroy every stone of it.' said Arthas. 'I was planning to just that before I was withdrawn. It will be another blow to the scourge. With their recent losses, it should prove simple. I also believe we should send Muradin to take command. He has connections with the various indigenous creatures. If we could form an alliance with them containing the scourge would become far easier.'

'This is all well and good.' said Father. 'But Northrend is a barren and hard land. It will not support everyone who we might send there.'

'What of Kalimdor?' asked Krasus.

'Didn't we already dismiss that?' asked Rhonin.

'We decided that there was no time to flee there.' said Krasus. 'But now there is time. We've stalemated the Legion. We've done more than stalemate it. If we send colonists to Kalimdor now, it will make it easier to feed everyone. And provide a fallback plan in case we are defeated here.'

'I agree with Krasus.' admitted Terenas. 'The prophet's words make more sense to me now.'

Arthas remembered the prophets confident predictions that all was lost. 'Hardly. This land is not lost yet.'

'Be that as it may, we must plan for every event.' said Father. 'Now, Prince Kael'thas, what of Quel'thalas.'

Kael'thas' features darkened. 'Many villages suffered grievously under the Dreadlord Mal'ganis. Fortunately, he was in haste and had no time to hunt down those who fled. Silvermoon was badly damaged in the battle, and many within were killed.

'Even so, my father and I have managed to stabilize the situation. We've made the trolls pay a high price for their actions. Unfortunately, the undead have reorganized under a new enemy. We do not know who.

'Yet the greatest threat to us is not weapons but within. My brethren and I have been suffering from a… a thirst. Without the Sunwell that empowered us many of the high elves have been going mad. Some are even transforming physically.

'I have traced the spread of this sickness. We have noticed that it is worst around Silvermoon. Those areas on the outskirts of Quel'thalas are least effected.'

'That seems to confirm your theory that the Sunwell's corruption is the cause.' mused Terenas.

'That was our assessment as well.' said Kael'thas. 'Those who are stronger of will can resist the sickness. Yet I fear that all too soon my people will weaken.'

'What kind of solution can we find to this?' asked Rhonin.

'I would not fear, Prince Kael.' said Krasus. 'The power of the Sunwell may not be altogether lost. And our people are stronger than you know.'

'That does not comfort me.' said Kael'thas.

Arthas considered the situation. 'Mana potions.'

'What?' said Kael'thas.

'You said that the reason you are suffering from withdrawal is that you no longer have access to a flow of magic.' said Arthas. 'Mana potion's whole purpose is to replenish the mana reserves of the one who drinks them.'

'That is true. However, mana potions are expensive.' said Krasus. 'They require one to infuse a great deal of magical energy into the water in question. Such sources are rare in this world.'

'Have you looked at the Violet Citadel lately?' asked Arthas in a tired tone. 'The place is covered in a miasma of pure mana. Have your mages drain the stuff, purify it, and put it into pills. Then give the pills to anyone feeling the effects of the sickness.'

Silence so deep you could hear a pin drop. '…How do you keep doing that?' asked Rhonin.

'The plan is worth a try.' said Father. 'At the very least it may buy us time for a more permanent solution. And it could decrease the residual mana in the air around Dalaran.'

'Still, I do not like the idea of attempting this method all at once.' said Kael'thas. 'We should test it on a few individuals before moving on to the next.' Arthas suspected that Kael'thas would almost want it to fail if only to discredit him.

'Agreed.' said Krasus.

* * *

The portal blazed to full life. Through it, one could see the frozen wasted and looming over them the icy tower at the heart of Icecrown Glacier. Kel'thuzad turned and bowed to the Dreadlord. 'It has been done, Lord Anetheron. The portal is open, and you may begin withdrawing at any time.'

'Excellent.' said Anetheron. 'Kazzak, Bring Archimonde though. We will follow behind. Varimathras, I trust you to ensure the enemy do not seize these lands.'

Varimathras bowed in a subservient fashion. 'As you wish, Lord Anetheron.'

The Legion's withdrawal took almost two days. During that time the entire Blackrock Clan, as well as all the demons who remained, fled through it. Only a moderately sized force of undead remained to man heavy defenses. In time, perhaps Varimathras could weld them into an army.

For now, his best defense was secrecy.

''Lord Varimathras the paladin Uther is approaching us and with him comes a vast army.' said a cultist.

Varimathras calculated his chances of defeating Uther in a straight up fight. He didn't like them. At once he came up with an alternative strategy. 'Sound the retreat.'

'As you command, great lord.' said the cultist.

He who fought and ran away lived to fight another day.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

My assumption as to why Kael'thas didn't figure out his people were addicted to magic was he didn't have time. With the Alliance in tatters and Quel'thalas blighted and everyone fighting for survival, there was simply no time to assess the situation.

Also, I made some alterations to the previous chapter which alter one of the plot points a bit. Just a warning.


	24. The Archdruid

**Chapter Twenty-four: The Archdruid**

Long had Malfurion Stormrage walked the Emerald Dream. He was seeking to heal the sickness which had beset the world. As he walked he found his gaze drawn far to the east. And there he beheld a terrible burst of light. It glowed with a power that was a shadow of the Well of Eternity of Old. Yet it was mixed with the fel. It grew brighter and bright and then stopped.

And in its place was only devastation. He could feel the land groan in agony from the wounds which had been dealt to it. As he gazed closer, he saw a power which he had witnessed only once before. One he had hoped to never see again.

Then came a call. The Horn of Cenarius was echoing in his ears, dragging him back to the world of mortals for his duty. He awoke. Long had he lain on this bed of stone in repose. Now as he stood, he was stiff.

'Has sleep dulled my senses?' he wondered aloud.

'Yours are not the only ones that were dulled.' said a booming voice. Malfurion emerged and saw Cenarius standing over him. He had conversed with the great spirit many times. But not in the past hundred years. 'Master, what is it that has happened?'

'I do not know.' admitted Cenarius. 'I have grown complacent. It has been ages since I last walked the lands east of her and now I sense a dark power arising.'

'Archimonde.' said Malfurion. 'I sensed a spell of terrible power ripping the very land apart.'

'Yes.' said Cenarius. 'But it was not of Archimonde's doing. I believe that the ancestors of the Highborne are behind this. I want you to awaken your druids and investigate the matter. I will watch over the forest.'

'I will go as well.' said a familiar voice.

Malfurion hesitated and looked to see a face which he had not beheld in endless ages. Tyrande Whisperwind stood before him. He felt his heart skip a beat and he ran to embrace her. 'My love, I thought of you every moment that I slumbered within the Emerald Dream.'

'And I of you, Furion.' said Tyrande. 'Yet we cannot speak of it now. We have a task that must be done.'

'I cannot allow this.' said Cenarius. 'Tyrande your strength is needed here. I fear the Legion may well strike soon and we must be ready. Send another in your stead.'

'Then I will send Shandris.' said Tyrande. 'She has grown powerful over the years and will be invaluable.'

'If you have chosen her than I will trust her with my life.' said Malfurion. 'Yet let us take a moment. Tell me what has happened while I was gone. Tell me of the changing of rivers and the growing of plants. Tell me of the wilds.'

'I will Furion.' said Tyrande. 'And when you return, I will show you them.'

* * *

That had been many weeks ago. Those few days he had spent while the fleet had assembled had been more precious to him than any he could remember. He had learned that the night elves had changed greatly.

Now Malfurion looked upon the land which he and his brethren had sailed so far seeking. The trees were blighted. And there were many buildings constructed here from wood, and thatch and stone. He could feel many of the trees groaning beneath the axes of denizens. Yet he could also sense that the blight was not their doing.

He would have to commune with them. Yet first, he must see what races dwelled here.

The ships reached the shore, and Malfurion stepped off onto the shore. His brethren walked with him. Even as he did so, however, he found a line of pink skinned creatures standing before him. They were like elves, but thicker of body. They were taller than dwarves, but not as tall as trolls. Many of them wore metal plates all over them. Armor, Malfurion supposed, and they held swords and shields.

At their head was a tall man on a horse. He wore black armor and in his hand was a huge axe. He bore a shield. 'You there! Violet skinned elf! Identify yourself or be considered hostile! Humanity has suffered enough at the hands of inhuman abominations to suffer one more!'

'What are you doing ya daft fool!' came a cry.

A blonde dwarf rushed up with many of his fellows in tow. The human, Malfurion presumed that was what he was called, looked down in contempt. 'Don't tell me my business dwarf. These elves are trespassing on the territory without leave! They are not wanted. I'll not having them wandering our lands without accounting for themselves!'

'Last time I checked, Lord Garithos,' said the dwarf. 'you weren't the one who made decisions like that. Now let me handle this. The last thing we need is to make yet another enemy.'

Garithos and the dwarf held each others gaze for a long moment. Then Garithos broke the stare and rode back. Muradin stepped forward. 'Sorry about that. We've been under a lot of stress with all that's happened. Not all humans are like that.'

'I would hope not.' said Malfurion. 'Who are you?'

'Muradin Bronzebeard, at yer service.' said Muradin, walking forward and offering a hand. 'My younger brother Brann is a renowned explorer. My older brother Magni is King of the Dwarves. If I didn't kick so much ass, I'd feel a tad awkward.'

Malfurion took the hand. 'I am Malfurion Stormrage of the Druids of Ashenvale. Long have we watched over the lands of Azeroth. Long have we guarded against the incursions of the dark powers of the universe.'

Muradin gave him a flat look. 'You lot are guardians?'

'Yes.' said Malfurion. 'We have watched over the world for ten thousand years.'

Muradin shifted awkwardly.

'What is it?' asked Malfurion.

'Well it's just you're kind of doing a shit job of it is all.' said Muradin.

'What do you mean?' asked Malfurion.

'Well I mean a couple of decades ago a portal opened up, and a race of demonic green-skinned monsters invaded. That was on the orders of the Burning Legion.' said Muradin. 'My whole Kingdom had to go underground, and we had a devil of a time getting rid of the buggers. Spent fifteen years cleaning up the mess they made.

'Then there was the whole zombie apocalypse.'

'Zombie?' asked Malfurion.

'Oh the corpses of the dead started rising from their graves to devour the living.' said Muradin. 'Spread by a plague. Wasn't a pretty job stopping them. And after that, it got even better. Fiery golems named infernals raining from the sky as far as ya could see!'

Malfurion hesitated. Then he turned to Shandris. 'Shandris, who did Tyrande leave to observe this continent?'

'I…' Shandris paused. 'Our watch has slipped. It has been thousands of years since any night elf walked here. When last we looked there were none of these humans here. There were only savage forest trolls. We judged that the Legion would not have a use for any creatures in this place. And many other fronts demanded our attention.

'When we had dealt with them we had taken many losses. So we could not return to our outposts. Gradually it slipped away from us as new matters demanded our attention.' She glanced to the humans. 'They remind me of Vrykul. But they are far too small.'

'Whatever they are,' said Malfurion, 'it would behoove us to cooperate with them.' He turned back to Muradin. 'Muradin Bronzebeard we bear you no ill will or any of your allies. We have come to this land to heal it of the darkness which has fallen over it. And also to investigate a wave of arcane magic which recently destroyed a land not far from here.'

'Oh that would be Arthas' doing.' said Muradin with a laugh.

'This Arthas,' said Malfurion, 'he must be a powerful demon then.' He felt something in the land when he heard the name.

'Nothing of the sort.' said Muradin. 'Though he's killed a lot of them. See we had this magic city called Dalaran which was infused with a lot of spells over the years. Real ancient. Thousands of years old. Well, Arthas found a way to take all those little spells and blow em up! Then he teleported the explosion onto our enemy.'

'Obscene!' said Malfurion. 'How could any being be so irresponsible! What of the trees and animals which were consumed in that inferno! What could excuse such an action!'

'Well we had to kill this demon named Archimonde…' began Muradin.

'In that case, I forgive you.' said Malfurion. 'Did you succeed?'

'Well we didn't exactly kill him.' said Muradin. 'But we sent him and his demon friends right back to Northrend with their pointy tails between their legs. Last I heard he was on the verge of death and his lieutenants were having a hell of a time reviving him. He may have died by now.'

'I fear that your hope is vain, worthy dwarf.' said Malfurion. 'Destiny has foretold a different fate for Archimonde. One that can only be bought with great sacrifice.'

'Sacrifice?' asked Muradin with an edge in his tone. 'There's been sacrifice enough for a century. And we're planning an expedition to make sure none of them were in vain.'

'I did not mean to offend you.' said Malfurion. 'I would speak with your leader. We wish to know how best we may serve this land and for that we must know more about it.'

'Well King Terenas is over the mountains in what used to be Alterac.' said Muradin. 'Organizing things and making plans to help the people. Prince Arthas is with em. They're a bit far so I think you'd best speak with Princess Calia.

'She's a smart lass. Not a fighter, but she knows something about politics.'

'Then take me to her.' said Malfurion. 'Time is pressing.'

'Alrighty then,' said Muradin, 'let's get moving.'

* * *

Prince Arthas, Highlord of the Scarlet Crusade, was doing paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Being a faction leader was indeed, not all glorious battles and banners waving in the sun. There were so many things to do. Promotions to hand out, troops to be trained, outposts to be constructed.

Falric was off constructing a new series of fortified towns. It had been dubbed the Scarlet Enclave. It consisted of Tyr's Hand, New Avalon, and Havenshire. It included a Harbor, King's Harbor and that pleased Arthas. He wanted to have access to the sea with his new order without having to go through others. Hearthglen and the surrounding settlements possessed recruitment centers for the Scarlet Crusade.

The training of the new armies was going well. With the recruits now given basic instruction, Falric focused on their education. It was no elite force, but it was an army which could be called up quickly to repel an invasion.

The door opened, and Uther Lightbringer strode in. The Ashbringer was on his back, and he sat down. 'Hello, lad.'

'Hello Uther.' said Arthas, 'I'm sorry to have called you away from the front.'

'Well there isn't much fighting going on, to begin with.' admitted Uther. 'We arrived and found the Blackrock village empty. Everything was gone, and only the stench of fel magic remained. We tracked an undead force retreat, but every time we sought to give battle it retreated.

'When we pinned it down the Dreadlord in command would fight free. He'd raise more corpses and retreat again. It's been a devil of a job tracking him down. Frankly, I think that there isn't anyone in the enemy army strong enough that I am needed there.'

'Do you think Varian can catch him?' asked Arthas.

'I think Varian is a quick study.' said Uther. ' Trouble is we're not used to this kind of warfare. The orcs were all fire and fury, throwing everything they had at strongpoints. This is a different kind of war, and we'll have to adapt. We can't leave him alone, or he might increase his forces. But neither can we catch him. He keeps drawing us out, then striking at our supply lines.

'We could seal off the Alterac Highlands, but there are still some people who dwell there. I don't like the idea of writing them off completely. It's a regular game of cat and mouse. Either he'd chip off enough pieces from our army that we'll have to withdraw, or Varian will pin him down.'

'And in the meantime, our forces are tied up by an army we should have smashed easily.' muttered Arthas 'This Dreadlord, whoever he is, is quite intelligent. His army doesn't tire so he can keep moving indefinitely. It makes the scourge ideal for hit and run tactics.

I wonder if I can find a Purple Citadel to blow up.'

'I wouldn't make jokes on the subject, lad.' said Uther 'Now what was it you wanted me for?'

'Two things.' said Arthas. 'First of all, Tirion Fordring has established a new training center in Light Hopes' Chapel. They are instructing many new initiates in the ways of the light.'

'I know of it, and I approved the measure.' said Uther. 'We've lost many good paladins. We'll need new ones.'

'I am well aware.' said Arthas. 'However, I think you should take on some new students as well. And I have two in mind for you.'

'You want me to take on students?' asked Uther. 'Alright, I'll think about it. Who are they?'

'Well first there is Brigitte Abbendis.' said Arthas. 'She came to me after the battle of Stratholme and requested I train her as a paladin. I'm not such a fool to think myself worthy of training anyone. So I've decided to direct her to you. I've given her a few pointers, talked to her about my experience and taught her some basic healing.

'But that is all.'

'And the other?' asked Uther.

'The other is a fully trained Priest of the Light. Sally Whitemane.' said Arthas. 'She killed hundreds of undead in Stratholme alone.'

'In that case, why are you sending her to me?' asked Uther.

'Because she is on a dark path.' said Arthas. 'All she ever talks about is vengeance and blood and also me. She gave me a nickname "Prince of Light" and it stuck. Everyone is using it now. She affects the people in my organization.'

'Well that is worrying.' said Uther.

'Yes. I know.' said Arthas. 'Frankly Uther, the people of Lordaeron are vengeful. I'm not the only person who suffered a breakdown. And many of those who did are among the defenders of light. If we don't check this mania before it spreads the Scarlet Crusade could get out of control.'

'Why did you found it in the first place?' asked Uther. 'Surely you could have simply set out a call to join the Silver Hand?'

'That isn't an option.' said Arthas. 'The Silver Hand is respected, but there is a perception that it failed. If I did rejoin the Order and put out a call, it would attract recruits. However, it would be for my sake, not the orders.

'I'm still accepting your offer to rejoin the order, however. Provided that I be given the same treatment as any other paladin seeking redemption.

'Will you do it?'

'It has been a while since I took on students.' admitted Uther. 'However for your sake, and the sake of the order, I will. But if I think I'm wasting my time, I'll look for different students.'

'Good.' said Arthas. 'Brigitte, I think, would make an ideal member of the Silver Hand. Sally Whitemane is already part of the Scarlet Crusade.' If Brigitte joined the Silver Hand, Arthas would have someone loyal to him inside the order. Meanwhile, Whitemane needed to have her aggression curbed.

'Very well.' said Uther. 'I want to meet them.'

'I will have them meet you in the courtyard.' said Arthas. 'Make yourself comfortable.'

* * *

Whitemane had been bidden to wait within the gardens of a courtyard in the Castle of Hearthglen. Abbendis was across from her, but Whitemane wasn't sure how to speak to her. Then there was Sylvanas some ways off, sharpening a dagger. The sound gave Whitemane the chills. Especially with the looks, Sylvanas had been giving her.

Then Prince Arthas appeared. He practically radiated light. Whitemane felt a blush come to her cheeks as she imagined the sight of him drenched in the blood of the unholy. Was there ever a more valorous or greater servant of the light than its Prince?

But now he had ordered her to take instruction from Uther Lightbringer. 'Prince Arthas, why is it that you have asked me to train under Lord Uther? Is not his way the way of the past?'

'Uther is wise among the paladins.' snapped Arthas. 'And you would do well to remember it. He is the finder of the Tome of Divinity. Though he is not infallible, there is no greater servant of the light. With his instruction, you may become far more powerful than before.' Then he clasped her by the shoulders and drew near. Whitemane found herself short of breath as she felt him so close to her. Their faces were practically touching. 'Listen to what he has to say and obey him. Do this for me.'

Now Whitemane understood. His meaning was made clear to her beyond his words. Clearly, he desired that she correct the errors which Uther had made. Uther's pride would prevent him from accepting the infallible greatness of Prince Arthas. Yet if she were his student she could gradually convince him of Arthas' rightness.

'…I understand, Prince of Light.' she said with revelation.

'Abbendis, same orders.' said Arthas. 'Wait here he should be through in a minute.'

Then he walked over to sit by Sylvanas.

* * *

There was something called the Windrunner curse among Sylvanas' family. There was far more human blood in the Windrunner family than was usual among elves. For some reason, the daughters of her family had a tendency to marry human men.

Much to her irritation, she did not seem to have escaped it. She was attracted to the Prince of Lordaeron, that much was clear to her. She was drawn to his charisma, how he could do horrible things and have people worship the ground he walked on. How he could send men to certain death and have them cheer his name when they survived. It was intoxicating.

Perhaps she had felt it even when she had first met him. She'd noticed that he was attractive even by elf standards then as well. He had a sort of aura which drew people to him and made them want to serve him. To please him.

Worse still he was now fully aware of it and had actually goaded her into having a spat with Whitemane earlier. He'd even found excuses for them to travel together all at once. Sylvanas did not like being played and had resolved to playback.

But how? It was entirely obvious what he was driving at this point. So how best to reply?

She turned her gaze from Sally Whitemane and looked to Arthas. 'Nothing romantic?'

'As far as I can tell her infatuation with me is one of the few things she thinks about which doesn't involve blood.' said Arthas. 'If I must work with the tools I'm given so be it.'

A likely excuse. 'And you didn't enjoy it even slightly?'

'I didn't say that.' he admitted.

Now to take him off guard. 'I probably would have.' admitted Sylvanas 'She has nice thighs.'

Arthas flinched. 'What?'

'Just musing. I wonder if they were the reason she got her position.' said Sylvanas. 'The outfit certainly helps.'

'So you are, uh…' Arthas paused. He was wondering if she was a lesbian now and he had been wasting her time.

'Yes, I am attracted to men and woman.' asked Sylvanas. 'Is there something wrong with that?'

'No.' admitted Arthas. 'I'm just surprised is all.' And relieved.

'At any rate.' said Sylvanas. 'I've been thinking about this whole thing. I've decided I really don't care if you pursue Whitemane as well as myself.'

That made him suspicious. 'You don't?'

'No, not really.' admitted Sylvanas. 'I don't want to give you the satisfaction of watching us fight over you. Besides, you aren't worth the trouble of denying.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Meaning?'

'Well humans are a very shortlived race.' said Sylvanas with a shrug. 'You're very attractive, and it isn't as though I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life with you. Even I remained faithful to you till the day you died, I'd have hundreds of years left. I could always look for another relationship.

'So congratulations. I'm willing to take you on as an idle amusement for the few short years you have left.' If this did happen, she wasn't going to spend the rest of her life mourning him.

To her surprise, Arthas laughed. He laughed louder and longer than she'd ever heard from him. Sally and Abbendis heard and looked over their way. Whitemane flushed in anger. Then he arose. 'Fair enough milady. So, what did Kael'thas want to speak to you about?'

Sylvanas turned her mind to that. 'He was furious with me.' said Sylvanas. 'I didn't exactly get authorization to leave Silvermoon with you. Apparently, Lor'themar had trouble without me. I'm used to being given free rein to operate as I wish so I didn't think to do so.

'He was right, to be honest. I shouldn't have left so quickly but I…' She looked to him.

'Desired revenge?' guessed Arthas.

'Yes.' Sylvanas was a good liar. Especially when her lies had a grain of truth.

'I'm glad you came.' said Arthas. 'You've been of invaluable service, milady.'

'Thank you.' said Sylvanas.

At that moment Lord Uther emerged into the courtyard. Abbendis and Whitemane both stood. Abbendis looked to be trembling in some mixture of fear and anticipation. Whitemane was tall and proud in a manner which made her only look seductive.

'So how long before Whitemane puts her foot in her mouth?' asked Arthas.

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. 'As soon as soon as she opens it.'

'Give her some credit.' said Arthas. 'She holds the paladin order in great respect, and she is quite a good leader. I think she'll make it a bit farther than that.'

'Would you care to wager ten gold on that?' asked Sylvanas.

'I'm game.' said Arthas.

These were the two Uther had been assigned to train?

They couldn't have been more different. One was clad in simple white and looked terrified of making a fool of herself. She had red hair to the neck that was parted near her forehead and seemed very self-conscious. Like many others who had stood before him waiting for training. Like a Prince, he had trained long ago, though older.

The other was the opposite. She wore an outfit which could only be described as scandalous. Her body was shown off in a fashion which would be risque for an entertainer, let alone a priestess. Her white hair flowed around her in waves. Was this Sally Whitemane? What were they teaching priests these days? He'd have word with the one who trained her soon enough.

'I have been asked by Prince Arthas to see to your instruction in the ways of the light.' said Uther 'I've decided to humor him. Now perhaps you could tell me something about yourselves.'

'I am Brigitte Abbendis.' said the red-haired girl. 'My father was a soldier in the second war. My mother died giving birth to me. It is my firm desire to serve the light and mete out justice.'

'Very nice.' said Uther with a smile. 'And you?'

I am Sally Whitemane of the Silver Hand!' she proclaimed 'The Silver Hand has failed, paladin! Join us; take up the path of vengeance!'

'Yes, we get it.' said Uther. 'You're edgy. Can we move this along?'

Uther felt a twinge of irritation as he saw Arthas hand over ten gold to Sylvanas.

This was a strange civilization which Malfurion saw around him in the capital. The streets were paved with stones. There were buildings far larger than even the greatest hunters hall. There was much arcane magic in the air.

Fortunately, it seemed that the casters in this place had not yet succumbed to temptation. As he spoke with Muradin, he learned that there were codes of conduct meant to restrain the use of magic. Wise, but futile. He only hoped he could turn this young race away from such pursuits.

Then he saw the palace. It towered above him, a construction of stone and metal. There were finely carved pillars with images of battles and great victories. Servants were everywhere in great numbers.

And finally, he entered the throne room. He walked in alone, and he found many guards standing by within. On a throne sat Calia Menethil. She was young, or so Malfurion guessed from looking at her. Muradin claimed humans rarely lived longer than a hundred years. Yet she looked less than half that. Her eyes were heavy with sleepless nights, but she rose and walked to meet him.

'Greetings to you, Malfurion Stormrage.' she said. 'I am Calia Menethil. I extend my welcome and the welcome of my father to you and your people.'

'My thanks to you.' said Malfurion. 'What have you been told of our mission?'

'That you are guardians of a sort and that you are here to help.' said Calia. 'If so it will be welcome. However, in truth, the war is largely over. What remains is mending the destruction which has been wrought.'

'We may be of great help there.' said Malfurion. 'For the land and I are one. As it suffers, so do I. As it flowers, so is my spirit raised. This land has suffered greatly beneath the demons reign. Perhaps the druids can lift that suffering.'

'You have my leave to purify the plaguelands if you wish.' said Calia 'But you may find it beyond you. The Silver Hand has worked tirelessly to heal the scars. But even Uther Lightbringer has been unable to save it.' She paused. 'You are from Kalimdor, are you not?'

'I am.' said Malfurion.

'Strange,' said Calia, 'we know of that land only in legends. The name was only recently brought up among us again. Tell me more of it, and in return, I shall tell you everything I know of my own domain.'

Calia Menethil asked many questions. They were focused very much on the landscapes of Kalimdor. Malfurion answered, and received answers in turn. The exchange was very helpful. Calia, it seemed, knew much of what happened in her realm. The Burning Legion had entered this world through proxies. the Orcish Horde and then the Lich King. He learned that descendants of the Highborne had made their home to the north. They had passed their magical knowledge onto the humans.

And he told Calia many things in return. About the lands of Kalimdor. Of Ashenvale and the Barrens. Of the far south. And also something of the history of many other places. Yet Calia did not seem to care for the land for its own sake, but for how it could be used. She asked about trees, not out of any love, but out of a desire to know which ones were best for shipbuilding. She asked about the climate and rivers. Not because she wanted to know the land, but because she wanted to know which ones she could exploit.

Eventually, Malfurion tired of the exchange. 'You do not deceive me.' said Malfurion. 'You have an interest in exploiting the lands of Kalimdor.'

'I have no choice.' said Calia. 'Many thousands of my people, tens of thousands, have been driven off their land. And now that land is blighted. They must live somewhere. We have already been making plans to colonize Northrend in order to observe the scourge.

'However, we don't desire a war. If possible, we would prefer to purchase land.'

'We do not rule over all of Kalimdor.' said Malfurion. 'We are shepherds, not tyrants. Yet there are many other races who you would first have to deal with. Yet what of these orcs you have spoken of? Where are they now? Did they all flee to Northrend?'

'No.' said Calia. 'Some remain far to the south — a splinter faction in the area around Stormwind. There are many smaller tribes scattered throughout the wilderness. Yet the largest group of them is gone. They took a fleet of ships and fled west, toward Kalimdor. We also sent an expedition of our own west when we feared that Lordaeron would fall.'

Malfurion grew still. '…If what you say is true, then they will have already reached Kalimdor. I must tell Tyrande of this.'

Raising a hand, he sent forth a call. An albatross flew in through the doors and landed on his hand. Malfurion whispered words of command and the bird turned and flew away. 'There. Now Cenarius knows of these demon worshipping orcs. They will find the night elves at their doorstep.'

'Well that is something.' said Calia. 'If you wish, I can introduce you to the Prince of those you call the Highborne.'

Malfurion was glad he had awakened. Now, at least, they had some time to prepare for what was coming. If not for the events at this land called Dalaran he might have slept until the Legion was at his doorstep.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Well by now it should become clear where I'm going with the romance subplot. But at the very least I'm advancing the plot in the process.

I think we'll move on to Kalimdor soon. In one way or another.


	25. Old Wounds

**Chapter Twenty-five: Old Wounds**

Snarlmane had been busy of late. His pack of gnolls had grown in number and carved out a territory of their own. Raiding villages was all well and good. And with the humans distracted it had been much easier pickings.

But now as he sat on a rock by his hut, polishing his flail, he reflected that it would not last. He'd smelt the stench of humans lately. More soldiers had come from other shores to reinforce the villages. They hadn't had an easy targets in a long time. Yesterday they had tried a raid and bee repulsed. Many gnolls had died in the fighting and little plunder had been made.

Soon they'd have to defend themselves.

Then he saw something. A pale skinned humanoid, clothed in crimson flying down to land before them. He had horns on his head and wore a great axe on his back. Snarlmane called aloud to his warriors and raised his flail. They came yipping and snarling to him and formed a front.

The demon did nothing. 'Back you Dreadlord, no one imposes on our territory!' said Snarlmane.

'Peace creature. I have no desire to fight with you.' said the Dreadlord. 'Indeed, I am Varimathras, and I have come to bring you a chance unlike any other.'

'We need nothing from you!' said Snarlmane.

'Yes indeed. You have carved out a mighty kingdom for yourself.' said Varimathras, voice subservient. ''But I bring you a chance to grow mightier still. For a great movement is taking place even now. The creatures who have been oppressed by the Alliance of Lordaeron are now rising up.'

'We have already risen up.' said Snarlmane.

'And yet how will you hold this land which you have conquered?' asked Varimathras. 'The Alliance has defeated my forces in this region. Soon the humans will come back seeking vengeance and you will be overrun.'

'We gnolls are strong.' said Snarlmane, but he felt differently. For centuries the humans had beaten them back. Crushing every attempt to establish themselves.

'But are you strong enough?' asked Varimathras.

Snarlmane knew the answer, though he would never admit it. 'What are you offering? We don't serve you?'

'I do not ask you to serve.' said Varimathras. 'Rather I ask you to become a comrade of King Mug'thol. No doubt you have heard of him.'

'We have.' said Snarlmane. Rumors of a mighty ogre who crushed villages and defeated knights had spread. Supposedly he had been gathering other races to his banner. Snarlmane was afraid of fighting him. But he would never admit it. 'But we will not pay tribute.'

'You need not. If you desire to join with us then we will gladly have you in friendship.' said Varimathras. 'Should you decide against it then we shall part likewise in friendship.'

Snarlmane considered the matter. Then he looked to his pack. This region would not be secure for much longer. '…We will come.'

'Excellent.' said Varimathras, sounding pleased. 'Then follow me and I shall bring you an alliance which will give you many more lands to conquer.'

* * *

A cold wind blew off the Alterac highlands, rushing through Varian's long dark mane. He pulled his blue cloak closer around him and leaned over the fire a bit more. It didn't help much, but at least the cold helped him think. He had been thinking a lot lately.

'The problem, your majesty,' said Renault. 'is that the scourge doesn't get tired. So as long as they keep running and refuse to give battle, we are hard pressed to catch them. If we charge after them too quickly, they can strike at our supply lines.'

'They've done that several times already.' said Varian. 'Any news from the prisoners?'

'Yes sir.' said Renault. 'Our enemy's name is Varimathras. He is a junior lieutenant in the Dreadlords. The protege of someone named Balnazzar of high rank. His orders, as far as the prisoner knew, were to delay us.

'They don't expect to hold out indefinitely. But they want to keep our armies occupied long enough for them to shore up their defenses in Northrend.'

'Well it's working.' said Varian.

'I wish I was at least facing an enemy of great power.' said Renault. 'Such as Mal'ganis. But I suppose all of them went to Northrend.'

'I don't think you are giving Varimathras his due credit.' said Varian. 'Strategic Withdrawals are difficult to execute. Far more difficult. And sometimes they are necessary. During the First War Lord Anduin Lothar led the entire nation of Stormwind across the sea.

'He made plans with Daelin Proudmoore to evacuate the citizens. He arranged for a fighting retreat led by my half brother, Aiden Wrynn. It took more planning than the assault on Blackrock Spire. Had it failed the results would have been far worse.

'No Renault. If there is one thing, I've learned it is that sometimes you have to cut your losses.'

'A shame that the Legion is aware of this as well.' said Renault. 'This is no good. We need someone who knows the ground in these parts. My Father may have been a noble of Alterac but I've never been this far into the mountains, and I don't know the land. But Varimathras does. He's sure to have gotten maps from the Blackrock orcs.

'Sooner or later he's going to catch us in an ambush, and that'll be the end of us all.'

'So what would you suggest?' asked Varian.

'We need a guide.' said Renault. 'Someone with a lot of experience?'

'Does anyone still dwell in these hills?' asked Varian.

'There are some, or there were.' said Renault. 'There were a great many settlements that dwelled around Alterac City. Before Thoras and his band of illiterates burned the place to the ground anyway. I doubt all of them packed up and left.

'But the Blackrock Clan may have exterminated them. No one has been able to easily get that far with all the wars going on.'

'Why did the King's of Alterac make their home in this land?' asked Varian. 'It is no god for farming.'

'They were raiders, not farmers.' said Renault. 'With the mountains defending them, you couldn't take a large army through with ease. That meant the Lords of Alterac had a secure stronghold to launch strikes from.'

'A lineage of bandits.' said Varian. 'Wonderful.'

'We were all bandits in those days, milord.' said Renault. 'After Arathor fell there was no tidy line of succession. The Kingdoms of Humanity were forged in blood and fire.

'And right now those bandits may be our only hope.'

'Very well.' said Varian. 'Dispatch some scouts to the ruins of Alterac.

The scouts were sent out, and Varian waited. As he did, he received news of the scourge moving to another valley. So they went after it. They were careful as they did so. They'd already run into smaller traps set by the Dreadlord, and now they had to go slowly.

Sure enough, the Dreadlord escaped them.

Then the scouts came back.

'Majesty,' said the scout, 'I have news. The realm of Alterac is populated. The city is still in ruins, but there are a number of towns and villages there. They are quite numerous. They all have palisades around them, and many men holding javelins are on top of them.'

'What of the people?' asked Varian.

'Their a desperate lot.' said the soldier. 'I don't think I was seen, but they've seen better days. Look like they've been starving.'

'I see.' said Varian. 'You may go.'

The scout departed, and Varian turned to his command staff. 'It is unfortunate that the people of this realm should suffer for the treachery of their King.'

'Don't take that tone around them.' said Renault, a warning in his voice. 'It won't go over well.'

'What do you mean?' asked Varian.

'Pernolde was held in high regard by his people.' said Renault. 'He was a shrewd politician who did much to increase the prosperity of his people. He won his battles by making himself not worth the effort of attacking. Instead het made himself helpful to one power or another. Then played them against eachother.

'He was much like Terenas. He just inherited a far weaker Kingdom.'

'He let the orcs attack Lordaeron.' said Varian.

'Yes he did.' said Renault. 'And the orcs left his people in peace. Ogrim Doomhammer, whatever his nature, was apparently an orc of his word. Thoras Trollbane did not. I was there, Varian. My Father had sent my mother and I there to be safe.

'Then came Thoras Trollbane. He burned the fields outside the city. He broke down the gates and killed everyone he found. Blood ran in the streets. Women were raped and murdered.'

'How did you survive?' asked Varian.

'My mother and I were among those few lucky enough to escape with the royal family. Aiden Pernolde, his son Aliden, and a number of others.' said Renault. 'There was a secret passage that led out. I remember as I came out I looked and I saw Alterac City burning.

'It was a vision out of hell.'

Varian hesitated. He'd seen such a sight in Stormwind, done by orcs. He almost didn't believe Renault, but the eyes he saw here did not lie. 'Why would Thoras do such a thing? I know that Pernolde betrayed us but-'

'He wanted Alterac for himself.' said Renault. 'But he knew King Terenas would prefer for the Kingdoms to remain independent of one another. Thoras dreamed of restoring Arathor of old, for it was his family that overthrew the last King of Arathor.

'If he exterminated the Royal Family there would be no system for King Terenas to restore. He would have had no choice but to give the territory to one of the Kingdoms. Terenas could not take himself, or be accused of trying to establish an empire. He and Graymane despise eachother, so Gilneas was out of the question. Dalaran lacked the military power to control another state. And Stormwind had fallen. Quel'thalas would never take.

'But it didn't work. Aiden escaped an was captured by Uther Lightbringer and my father. Thoras' attempt to end the family was a failure. And he could not convince Terenas to execute them.

'Instead, Terenas tried to install Daval Prestor. Unfortunately, he disappeared right before his coronation. So Terenas instead ended up having to annex the place.'

'So, King Terenas did with clean hands what Thoras Trollbane slaughtered a city to achieve.' said Varian. 'There is a certain justice in that.'

'Not in the minds of the people of Alterac.' said Renault.

'Well, we have no choice but to try and speak with them.' said Varian. 'Thoras' ruthlessness might well cost even more lives if we don't get heir help. My Father had to repel an invasion by Stromguarde during the First War. Without it, we may have gained the help of Lordaeron and defeated the orcs earlier.

'I begin to wonder if Thoras is any less vile than the orcs.' He stood up. 'Renault, I will need you to come with me. Captain Marwynn.'

'Yes?' asked Marwynn.

'Prince Arthas trusts you more than any, does he not?' asked Varian.

'Well not as much as Falric.' said Marwynn. 'But I'm a close second.'

'Then I would have you take command in my absence.' said Varian. 'Don't do anything reckless. Just make sure the undead can't get away.'

'I understand.' said Marwynn. 'I'll take care of it.'

'We should not take a great number.' decided Varian. 'Only a small guard. I do not want to be mistaken for an invasion.'

* * *

So he and Renault set out with only a small troop of men to guard them on the road. Their passage was swift and within a day or so they had passed into the lowlands. They were at the western edge of the Alterac Highlands. Here lay Alterac City, a port situated on the shores of Lordaemere Lake. Long had the city been the rival to Dalaran and Lordaeron City, or so Varian had heard.

Yet now it was a desecrated ruin. Buildings lay shattered and fallen in the streets. Varian could see no sign of life within those ruins. The stones were blackened with fire, and moss was beginning to creep up onto the stones. It was not the worst desolation he had seen, for birds still nested in trees and life was not gone entirely.

But it disquieted Varian nonetheless. Those ruins he had seen before had been made by demons and orcs. Yet these were made by human hands, and that disturbed him.

Soon the small company passed beyond the city and came into brown lands. The fields here were rocky, and Varian could tell the soil was not very good. True to the scout's word many villages dotted this land. All were surrounded by palisades, and armed men walked them.

A horn call sounded as they walked and out of a gate streamed a troop of soldiers on horseback. They were a wild bunch with spears and axes, but at their head was a knight clad all in black armor. He had a short black beard, and he rode toward them.

'Stand ready,' said Varian, 'but make no aggressive move.'

His men had hands on their swords, but they did not draw them. On came the horsemen. They halted a few hundred feet away and arraying themselves for battle. Their leader came forward. 'Hold where you are, Alliance dogs! I do not know what business you have in Alterac, but you are within the territory of Alterac now! Account for yourselves or be destroyed!'

'We come in peace.' said Varian. 'We wish to speak with your leader in the hopes of forming an alliance.'

'An alliance?' asked the man. 'We heard that offer once before and were paid back in our own blood. Why should we speak with you?'

'Surely you must know of the demons who have spread their taint across the world?' asked Varian.

The man's expression grew grim. 'We know of them. They are the masters of the Blackrock Clan. Yet they have not yet come to us, and if they wish to tear your kind apart, we'll only be happier for it.'

'And what of the lands that were once part of Alterac?' asked Varian. 'Those lands unjustly stripped from you? Do you think only the men of Lordaeron suffer beneath the grip of the Legion? Or that you will remain forever overlooked by them?

'When they have destroyed us they will come for you. Allow me to speak with your leader. Let him judge the case, and if he rejects us, we will leave.'

'And who is it who wants to speak to the leader of Alterac?' asked the man.

Varian threw back his cloak and hood. 'I am King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. I have come to this land to hunt demons. These are my men.'

'I am Blackmoore of Alterac.' said the man. 'These are mine.'

Varian had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

It was a little glade that had escaped the destruction of Dalaran. Here Prince Kael'thas was waiting for the arrival of some very distinguished individuals. Soon they appeared. Princess Calia came forward and with her was an elf, yet not of Kael'thas kind. His skin was violet, and his beard was blue. He had antlers, and he radiated an aura of life.

Was this the one?

'Princess Calia Menethil.' said Kael'thas, bowing. 'I am glad you could come.'

Calia curtsied. 'Prince Kael'thas, I bring you greetings on behalf of my father, the king of Lordaeron. This is Malfurion Stormrage. The Druid I wrote of. He wishes to speak with you.'

So it was. Kael'thas turned to him. 'Greetings to you, Archdruid. I am Kael'thas Sunstrider of the High Elves. I do not know what your efforts here may amount to, but you are welcome to make them. Dalaran was a home to me for many years, and I would like to see it mended.'

'I should not become overly hopeful.' said Malfurion. 'Healing the wounds of mortals is simple. But healing the wounds of the land is a task which can take ages.'

'I fear it will.' said Kael'thas. 'I will show you Dalaran if you wish.'

'I wish it.' said Malfurion.

Kael'thas motioned for him to follow. 'We will have to walk the rest of the way on foot. I fear the residual magic in the air has made teleporting dangerous. Come.'

He led Malfurion from the glade and into the beginnings of the destroyed waists. There were still some plants at first. An occasional tree which clung to life. But they became less and less common. Finally, they were looking down upon the desolation of Archimonde, as it has been called.

Malfurion sucked in a breath. 'Such is the price of arcane magic.'

'Arcane magic is not to blame.' replied Kael'thas. 'Merely it's use.'

Malfurion looked like he wanted to flare up at that. However, he guarded his words. 'My people have an unfortunate history with arcane magic. It is destructive and can corrupt and maim very easily.'

'All magics can corrupt and maim.' said Kael'thas. 'But all can also be used to create beauty and wonder.'

'Not all magics, young Prince.' said Malfurion. 'Some should never be dabbled. But we should not speak of this. I must commune with the land and know its pains.' Then he got down to his knees and closed his eyes. He seemed to be meditating for he went perfectly still. There he remained for a long time.

Finally, he opened his eyes. '…I've seen far worse.'

Kael'thas tried to control his response. Worse? How could it be worse? 'Surely you jest, Lord Stormrage.'

Malfurion looked bitter. 'I'm afraid not, Prince Kael'thas. I wish this was the worst devastation I have seen in my life. But the magic of fel has done far worse.'

He was not lying. Kael'thas could tell. 'How?'

'There are two ways one may devastate nature, young Prince. The first is to kill many plants and animals so that the harmony of the world is disrupted.' said Malfurion. 'This is unfortunate, but it may be mended by repopulation and careful tending of the land.

'Unfortunately, there is another kind. One far more terrible. And that is when the spirits themselves, the manifestations of life are driven out. When that happens, life ceases to grow. Animals avoid such places, and they wither and die.

'In time the unholy magics of such places may fade or be driven out, and the spirits may be convinced to return. But it takes far longer.

'This is the former. The darkness that fell over this land was largely purged. The mana storms which ravage this place are a passing thing. They will fade in time. And life may still be grown, life that may weather such storms. When at last they settle life will have crept back in, and my brethren will be able to restore this land to what it once was.'

'How long will this take?' asked Calia.

'Not long. Five hundred years perhaps.' said Malfurion.

'Five hundred years?!' said Calia.

Malfurion blinked. 'I apologize. I was thinking in terms of elven lifespans. I am sorry that I cannot heal it for your eyes to see. But your great grandchildren may see this realm restored.

'It was not so in the Barrens.'

'The Barrens?' asked Kael'thas.

'Yes.' said Malfurion. 'That is what they call it now. I cannot remember what it once was named, for the memory is too ancient. But it was a thriving and beautiful forest. Then came the Burning Legion. There was a cataclysmic war, one far more terrible than anything you have faced.'

'With respect, Archdruid, I find that difficult to believe.' said Kael'thas.

'I do not blame you.' said Malfurion. 'But Archimonde, the enemy we now face, was but a Lieutenant of the shadow which cast itself over the world. In those days there was, but one continent and the world was new. The dragon flights, now diminished and fading, were then in their full glory. And they went to war all at once.

'In your history, the Red Dragon Flight was turned against you. Enslaved. But it was but a pale shadow of what it was in my time. And yet the dragon aspects were but one part of a great conflict which extended far beyond them.'

'How could anything survive such a conflict?' asked Kael'thas.

'What I now call the Barrens did not.' said Malfurion. 'Ten thousand years and more have passed since it was laid to waste and my people have not been able to restore it. Life is returning, slowly, and it is my hope that it may be made green again when Dalaran is restored.

'Yet perhaps some scars may never heal.'

Kael'thas felt tiny. As if all that the Alliance had built was but a fleeting dream. Here was a man who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations. Places so old that no one on this continent remembered their name. How did one speak to such a person?

'Lord Stormrage, I… I am not sure what to say.' began Kael'thas. 'But you are wrong. Five hundred years is no short time for my people. It can be half a lifetime.'

'I see.' said Malfurion. 'Of course. Your people went east before the blessing of Nordrassil.' Before he could clarify, or anyone could ask, his eyes turned away. He looked at the contraptions which had been laid out on the blighted fields.

They were strange devices which were sucking the mana into them. Mages worked them, and manual laborers packed something that came out into boxes.

'…What are those men doing, Prince Kael'thas?' asked the Archdruid.

'They are mages taking samples from the mana storms.' said Kael'thas. 'They focus them into pills which are then provided to my people in Quel'thalas.'

'To what end?' asked Malfurion.

'My people had tied our spirits to a fount of magical power called the Sunwell.' said Kael'thas. 'The Dreadlord Mal'ganis corrupted it. Without its energies, we are lacking in mana and have to take supplements in order to stay healthy.

'We owe the Alliance much.'

'Interesting. And in doing you are taking the residual mana from the air.' said Malfurion, voice thoughtfuly. 'Tell me, Prince Kael'thas, how many of these pills do you use each day?'

'We are increasing the number we harvest every day, and it is not enough.' said Kael'thas. 'We distribute them to those who are suffering worst from our addiction. They have to take one every day.'

'And how many elves are there in Quel'thalas.' asked Malfurion.

'We have not taken a census in some time, however, there are tens of thousands in the area around Silvermoon alone.' said Kael'thas.

'In that case, I may be able to amend my earlier answer.' said Malfurion. 'If you continue to harvest mana from this place I believe I will be able to start work earlier. It may be restored to a semblance of what it once was within fifty years.'

'I'm looking forward to it, Archdruid Malfurion.' said Kael'thas.

'As am I.' said Malfurion. 'Now one more thing. Will you show me the land of your people, Prince Kael'thas. I am told it suffered greviously.'

'Gladly.' said Kael'thas.

* * *

Contact had been established with the colonists who had been sent to Kalimdor. Apparently, they had landed and begun building a new home. Now, at last, Arthas could speak over long distance, provided one had a powerful enough mage.

Arthas had no desire to have this meeting. But he knew he must have it sooner or later and better sooner. So he used the artifact. An image appeared before his eyes. It was of a stunningly beautiful blonde woman whose wavy hair fell around her. She wore a tight white bodice that bared her toned midrift and clung to her huge bust. Her lower half was covered in skintight white pants which clung to her ample curves. She was holding a staff in one hand. A blue cloak and hood was over her head.

'Hello, Jaina.' said Arthas.

'Arthas I, I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye.' said Jaina. 'But with everything that was happening I was afraid it would be too late if I waited.'

'I forgive you.' said Arthas. He decided to get the worst out of the way. 'Antonidas is dead.'

She reeled. 'What?!'

'He died well.' said Arthas. 'He tried to seal the barrier that a powerful demon, Archimonde was crossing. However, he has now been raised into undeath by Kel'thuzad.'

'I… I… I just spoke to him a few weeks ago.' said Jaina. 'Before I left.'

'It has been more than two months.' said Arthas. 'In that time many people have been dispossessed of their land. If new lands are not found for them, there will be starvation. Have you found any places worth colonizing?'

'We've landed at an island, I named it Theramore.' said Jaina, regaining control of herself. 'We drove out the murlocs who dwelled there and took control. There is also a land, Duskwallow Marsh. There we met a race of elves called night elves. They said they had been sent to meet us by a Cenarius. They were expecting us.'

'You can thank Calia for that.' said Arthas. 'A group of these elves arrived in Lordaeron. They claim they want to heal the land. I don't hold out much hope, but apparently, they've fought the Legion before. Whatever the case Calia arranged for messages to be sent ahead. The elves know about the orcs who went west, and with luck, they will hunt them.'

'Well they've been very helpful.' said Jaina, looking shaken. 'I've managed to set up the beginnings of several villages in Duskwallow Marsh. It isn't exactly pleasant, but high elves know how to alter terrain. If we could get few high elven druids here, we could probably alter the land to suit our needs.'

'Good.' said Arthas. 'Transport whatever maps you have to Calia. She is planning the expedition.'

'I… alright.' said Jaina. 'I was about to venture further west to try and find the Prophet. Supposedly there is an Oracle in a range of mountains called Stonetalon.'

'Don't do that.' said Arthas. 'Get your people fortified and prepare to receive new refugees. Explore the surrounding area. Find all the good land and lay claim to it before the orcs do.'

'But Arthas,' said Jaina, 'he was right.'

"Was he?' asked Arthas. 'I returned from Northrend safe and sound. The Legion has been repelled, for now. Besides, he dragged you across the world. The least he could do is make himself known on his own time.'

'I suppose you are right.' said Jaina. 'What have you been doing?'

'I killed Mal'ganis. But he killed a great many other people.' said Arthas. 'Things have settled down a bit. I've fixed things with Uther, and we're in the final stages of making our plans for colonization.

'I am to head up the next wave of western colonization. With luck, I'll meet you in Theramore. Another party, guided by Muradin, is to go north again and reestablish our old colonies. We need to have a presence in Northrend to monitor the region.'

'Right, that makes sense.' said Jaina.

Silence fell over them for a moment. What could he say?

'Arthas…' began Jaina.

'Yes?' asked Arthas.

'I'm glad you're alright.' she said 'I was afraid you would never come back from Northrend.'

Arthas smiled. 'I made a strategic withdrawal.'

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Yes, I am aware that canonically the Black Dragons destroyed Alterac City. However, I think the story of Warcraft works better if both sides are morally gray. Having Thoras Trollbane brutally subjugate Alterac after their betrayal makes sense. It also good reason why Terenas was reluctant to hand rulership over to Thoras. Unfortunately, this makes him practically a villain.

On a separate note, I wish I could just end this fic here and make a sequel later. The problem is that we've already set up several plot threads that need resolving. At this point, I may just end up making a side story fic that deals with the orcs side of things. I've got way too many perspectives right now anyway.


	26. All that is Gold

**Chapter Twenty-six: All that is Gold**

A hot sun beat down on the barrens as Tyrande urged her tiger forward under the shade of a forest. More trees had returned to this land since last she was here and things were greener. Even so the scars of war remained on the land.

'Priestess Tyrande are you sure we should be leaving Ashenvale at this time?' asked a dryad who rode beside her. 'What if the Legion moves against us?'

'Furion has assured us that the Legion will be slow to move, Nara.' said Tyrand 'And these orcs who serve them may cause much destruction if they are not checked. We must find and remove them before they can spread their foul taint to these lands.'

Then she halted as the sound of hoofbeats came to her ears. Motioning to her troops, they faded into the surroundings. Soon enough a vast horde of centaurs appeared, clad for war. They rode onward and Tyrande trailed after them. As she did they passed villages where new centaurs came to join the horde.

'Centaurs? Here?' asked Tyrande. 'When last I came here the tauren dwelled in these lands.'

'Priestess that was forty years ago.' said Nara. 'Mortal races shift and change faster than we do.'

'Perhaps I have been too long in the forest, Nara.' mused Tyrande 'No matter, we will find them nonetheless.'

'Look!' said Nara. 'The centaur khan is leading his forces. This must be a great ride.'

'There has not been one of those in centuries.' said Tyrande. 'Come, let us track them and see what they are up to. It may be that this is some devilry of the Legion. Often times they work through lesser evils to achieve greater desecration.'

They followed behind the centaurs and past an oasis. Coming to a series of hills they saw a vast column of humanoid creatures. They had the heads of bulls and the warriors among them held massive totems. There were also many kodos, heavily burdened, and vast crowds of women and children. They were the tauren.

And with them were creatures like those Malfurion has described. Yet they were standing along the tauren. Together they formed a defensive line to fend off the centaurs at the chokepoint. At their head, on the back of a great wolf was a large greenskin. In his hand was a hammer, shining with the energy of the spirits. He sent forth bolts of lightning against the centaurs.

'There are the orcs.' said Nara. 'Or so I judge from Furion's description. Yet why are they defending these tauren?'

'Furion's letter described a savage race of monsters, fueled by demonic magic.' mused Tyrande.

'Do you think they may have corrupted the tauren?' asked Nara.

The caravan was away. The first wave of centaur were driven back from the pass. But a vast new tide of them was coming. The orc leader turned to the leader of the tauren, a big gray haired bull with a halberd. 'Cairne, the caravan will never make it in time!'

'Let the fury of the Earthmother deal with these wretches as they deserve!' cried Cairne.

Then he struck the ground with one hoof. Even as the centaur came forward the ground shuddered. The mountains on either side rained stones down on them. Many were buried while others turned and fled backward in terror.

The attack had been foiled. Now the tauren were beyond the reach of the centaur. But not Tyrande. For Centaur had the bodies of horses and could not go up rocky terrain with any speed. Thus the night elves scaled the heights and followed afterward.

'I believe Furion was mistaken.' said Tyrande. 'That orc was wielding the spirits of the land. No wielder of unholy power may do that.'

'Then the humans sought to deceive us?' guessed Nara.

'Perhaps.' mused Tyrande. 'Or they may have misjudged an old enemy. I have not met them and Furion seemed to trust them. So I will withhold judgement. The question now becomes: What of our mission?'

Reaching the height, they saw the orc and tauren leaders conversing. Eventually the orcs went one way and the tauren another. Nara raised a spear. ''The orcs are separating from the tauren? Shall I give the order?'

'No.' said Tyrande. 'We will follow them for a time and watch. But first I must speak with that tauren chieftain. There is something familiar about him… ' She rode her tiger down into the midst of the tauren who looked up in wonder.

The leader came forward and bowed. 'Priestess Tyrande, it has been nearly a lifetime since last I saw you.'

'I take it then, that we have met, old one.' said Tyrande, no surprised.

'Yes indeed.' said Cairne. 'Though small wonder that you do not remember me. I was a young fool boy, and had much less gray in my hair. What may the tauren do for you?'

'We have come in search of information.' said Tyrande. 'We were led to believe that a scourge of demon worshipping greenskins had landed upon our shores. However we have seen them defend your caravan. So we have come to question our information.

'What can you tell us of the orcs who you traveled with?'

'Scourge?' laughed Cairne. 'The only scourge which besets my people are the centaur. They have multiplied in the years since you left and driven us out of many of our villages. We are nomads now and battle is rarely far off.

'Some weeks ago we were hard pressed by the centaur. However, the young Warchief, Thrall, came to our aid. Together we fought off the centaur. But we were forced to abandon our villages, for the centaur had driven off all the game.

'Thus we began the journey here to Mulgore. Warchief Thrall offered to escort us. We are deeply in his debt. I fear that had he not come to our aid we should have been overrun and cut down by the devils. Their speed is terrible on the plains.'

'That I know too well.' mused Tyrande. 'And this confirms what I have begun to fear. We nightelves have become lax in our guard. No matter. I would speak with this Warchief. Tell me, Cairne, where was he bound?'

'He sought the Oracle of Stonetalon Peak.' said Cairne. 'He wishes to achieve the destiny set before his people.'

Tyrande paused. 'Then we will shadow him and judge for ourselves the nature of his kind. Quickly, Nara, we must follow.'

Thus they were off.

* * *

Quel'thalas was a land of marred beauty. At first glance Malfurion thought it looked far better than Dalaran. Yet as his gaze flickered over the beautiful trees they came to an abrupt end. As they neared the areas the scourge had been through he began to feel like something was wrong. He didn't know what it was, yet.

'So this is the homeland of which you spoke, Prince Kael'thas.' he said.

'Yes.' said the Prince sadly. 'You should have seen it when the Sunwell still stood uncorrupted. Now it has been blighted by the undead. A new leader always masked and covered in red, leads them now.'

'You have Druids of your own, do you not?' asked Malfurion, for something about the land seemed altered.

'Yes.' said Kael'thas. 'We are connected to the land of Quel'thalas, much like your own people. We shaped it to our liking and communed with the spirits, creating harmony. The trees themselves protected our capital during the Second War. And later the Scourge invasion. They paid a heavy price.'

'Show me the worst part of this land.' said Malfurion. 'The place where the corruption is strongest.'

'It is here, the Dead Scar.' said Kael'thas, motioning to a wide line of blight which led into the distance. 'Here the Dreadlord Mal'ganis carved a path of destruction. Since the corruption of the Sunwell the land which he walked has begame blighted. Fel spirits arise and must be beaten back regularly.

'Those who die here rise again.

Still, compared to Dalaran the damage was minimal.'

Malfurion closed his eyes and let his mind stretch out across the land. It was as he had feared. His suspicions proved true. 'On the contrary, the damage is far more insidious in this place, Prince Kael'thas. The spirits have not fled. But it is as though they are too weak to act. They are confused like they have never known corruption or hardship.

You said your druids created harmony. What did you mean by that?'

'We have worked for a long time to create a land with few dangers.' said Kael'thas. 'In the heart of our realm there are almost no predators, yet the deer do not overpopulate. I am not very knowledgeable on the subject, but I could introduce you to our Druids.'

Damn it. 'I see. I see all too well.' said Malfurion. 'Your people have played god, young Kael'thas, and they have paid for it dearly. This land may have appear healthy, but it was not. It was fat and pampered. Living things only reach their full potential well allowed to stand on their own.

'By shaping the land into your idea of a paradise you have weakened the spirits. They can no longer heal themselves. With the Sunwell gone all this realm is fading. It will be a difficult task to restore it.'

'How long?' asked Kael'thas.

'I do not know.' admitted Malfurion. 'I cannot without first understanding how far your people have tampered with nature. When there is more time I would speak with your druids, I must know what they have done and how it may be mended,

'And also discuss with them the ethics of a druid.'

Prince Kael'thas remained silent for a long moment. '…I understand Lord Stormrage. I will arrange a meeting at once.'

Malfurion realized something. He had seen a misuse of Druid magic which he would never have caught without the help of arcane. If Kael'thas could not teleport he should have stayed in Lordaeron. It might have been years before he got this far. In that time the druids of Quel'thalas might have made things even worse.

'Prince Kael'thas.' said Malfurion suddenly.

'Yes?' asked Kael.

'This… teleportation magic of yours has proven very useful.' said Malfurion. 'With it I have been able to cover a length and breadth of ground that would otherwise have been impossible. I am beginning to think that arcane magic may have uses. Under controlled circumstances, of course.'

'I am glad.' said Kael'thas. 'I only wish we had not mismanaged the situation. Have you ever made mistakes like this?'

Malfurion smiled. 'Enough to fill an eternity, young Prince.'

* * *

Varimathras led them over the rise and through the trees. As Snarlmane emerged blinking into to new sunlight of a dawn long delayed his jaw dropped. He saw the sun rising over a city of stone. Yet this city was not human. The buildings were like those of Forest Trolls, but they were hewn of stone. It was surrounded by a great wall of boulders set in place by hands larger than any troll.

Snarlbane could not speak. Never before had he seen so great a structure. The humans had built such things, but he viewed those structures with hate and fear. For where they stood also stood soldiers with sharp swords and dangerous spells. Yet these walls were patrolled by forest trolls. Huge ogres stood guard by the gate.

'Behold, Snarlmane.' said Varimathras. 'The domain of King Mug'thol. Lord of the Kingdom of Creeps.'

'What is this?' asked Snarlmane.

'This is the Capital City.' said Varimathras. 'Or it will be. It has been named Creepdom.'

'How…' asked Snarlmane, 'how was this made?'

'The heavy lifting was done by ogres. Under my instruction of course.' said Varimathras proudly. 'They are great and strong. And the hands of forest trolls are masterfully skilled when they set themselves a task. Yet they have need of a people who are skilled at both melee and ranged.

'Come, there are others who have assembled.

'See, there is Chieftain Murky.'

He pointed to where a host of murlocs were emerging from the nearby river. Snarlmane rushed down to meet them and brandished his sword. 'Who are you?'

The leader, a small green murloc, made a noise. Snarlmane scratched his head. 'I do not understand.'

'He and his people offer you their greetings.' said Varimathras. 'They hope that they may unite with you in common cause.'

'What use could murlocs be?' asked Snarlmane.

'They are not as strong as you.' conceded Varimathras. 'But they are skilled waterers. With their aid, the rivers of Lordaeron may be seized, and power mustered to resist our common foe.'

'The Alliance.' guessed Snarlmane.

'Yes.' said Varimathras. 'They kill you for sport. They hunt you to thin your numbers. They slaughter your children that they will not grow up and avenge you. Join us Snarlmane. Let us band together and work to avenge the unforgivablle injuries that have been dealt to all our races.'

'We will…' Snarlmane remained silent. 'We will join.'

Murky made a noise of his own.

'Excellent. Follow me.' said Varimathras. 'King Mug'thol will give you opportunity for plunder and glory. A great assembly has been made.'

Varimathras led them into the city. The doors were all made tall enough so that ogres could walk within. Yet there were also seats and tables meant for smaller creatures. Snarlmane saw a place where trolls and ogres were drinking together.

On they went until they entered the largest building. Within was a great circular chamber of huge size. And sitting at the far end was a massive ogre, larger than any Snarlmane had ever seen. He wore a suit of black armor and leaning against his throne was a massive mace. In front of him was a stone table which only reached up to his knees. But it was tall enough that it reached Snarlmane's breast.

'King Mug'thol the last two of the delegation has arrived.' said Varimathras.

'Good.' said Mug'thol, voice booming. 'Wait with.' Then he rose and stood even taller if that was possible. 'Me Mug'thol. Me mighty ogre king. But tiny humans always raid. They kill. They grab ogres and experiment till death. Me think we all unite! Then we smash puny humans and pretty elves!'

'I be thinking dat be sounding fine by me.' said a voice. Snarlmane suddenly realized that a one-armed troll had been standing near him all this time. His eye was also put out. Didn't trolls regenerate? And how had he been unseen until now? 'But what be with dis round table.'

'Table symbolic, Zul'jin.' said Mug'thol. 'No head. So no one can sit at head. Table mean that all who sit at are equal. We swear oath. No longer fight eachother. Now fight only alliance.'

'I'll be joining it.' said Zul'jin.

Murky made a noise.

'Mug'thol not understand.' said Mug'thol.

'Murky is saying yes.' said Varimathras.

Snarlmane decided he did not want these people as enemies. Better as friends. 'We gnolls will join. We will taste man flesh.'

'Then we now make Kingdom of Creeps!' cried Mug'thol. 'I King Mug'thol! You Sir Zul'jin the Sneaky.'

Zul'jin blinked with his one good eye. 'I be thinking I be wanting a different-'

'You Sir Zul'jin the Sneaky because me say so!' bellowed Mug'thol.

Zul'jin sighed. 'Fine.'

'You Sir Murky the Slippery.' said Mug'thol to the murloc.

Murky said something, No one understood. 'Murky likes his name.'

'You Sir Snarlmane the Savage.' said Mug'thol.

Sounded fine to Snarlmane. But how had he known their names?

'Why does he be the only one getting a decent name?' muttered Zul'jin.

'Mug'thol say all decent names! Mug'thol King! Mug'thol smash all who disagree!' said Mug'thol.

Zul'jin eyed him in irritation. '…Right.'

'We take easy target first, work on teamwork!' said Mug'thol, scooping up his mace. 'Alliance have small garrison at Stratholme! We go smash then take Stratholme and lands around! When we have, we make our own!'

This was going to end in a lot of blood. Just the way Snarlmane liked it.

* * *

It was not the court of a King Varian was led to but the hall of a Bandit Lord. The leader, a gray haired man with a beard, was speaking with his advisors. He wore a weatherbeaten cloak around his thin form. His skin was tanned, and his fingers were scarred. He looked more like a bandit leader than a Lord. Then again, reflected Varian, he probably was one.

'-armies of the Alliance are on the move.' said one of the leader's advisors. 'I'm sure they'll burn and rape like always.'

'They don't seem to be doing any burning, though.' said another. 'Maybe they'll come and go.'

'I'd thought the bastards had forgotten about us by now.' muttered a third. 'It'll be bad business mark my words. I expect they want something.'

The leader raised his hand. 'Hold. Who is this, Blackmoore?'

Blackmoore bowed. 'King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. He is leading an army and wishes our help with some business.'

'Let him speak for himself then.' said the leader.

Varian walked forward. 'We do indeed have need of your services. However, we bear you no ill will and the enemy we face is one to all that live.'

'No ill will?' asked the leader. 'Our King was thrown out and made a beggar in the wilderness and you want us to help you?'

'King Pernolde was-' began Varian, before stopping himself. He had been about to call the man a traitor. Apparently they knew what he was about to say, judging by their dark looks. 'The situation was dire. Drastic action was taken and those who took it were overzealous.'

'He was always a fair ruler to us.' said an advisor. 'When the assembled hosts of the Horde were coming down on us he negotiated a way for us to be spared. Then that bastard Thoras Trollbane burned Alterac City to the ground. Set himself up, too.

'Course he wasn't expecting Terenas to cheat him and put his puppet Prestor in charge.'

'I'm guessing that's why Prestor disappeared, and Thoras left the Alliance.' noted another.

'No honor among thieves you know.' said the third.

Varian felt his blood boil. To have a noble King such as Terenas dismissed as a thief infuriated him. But he kept his temper in check. Nothing would be gained by lashing out right now.

'And anyway why should we care about the Alliance?' asked the first. 'They've got no right to rule over us.'

'…There have been many mistakes of the past.' said Varian 'However-'

'Mistakes?' asked a man. 'I suppose it was also a mistake what happened to my daughter. If your definition is wide enough, anything can be a mistake. So I suppose it was a mistake that we accepted the Horde going through our lands without a fight.

'But if we can't judge you for your mistakes, why can you judge us?'

'The destruction of Alterac was a tragedy.' said Varian. 'And your people are owed compensation. If you help me, I can see this place rebuilt.'

'Oh so now you're offering us compensation.' said one of the crowd. 'Provided we march to war with you. And sacrifice our sons to the meat grinder. We've seen that song and dance once before. It won't work twice.'

'I don't ask for an army.' said Varian. 'I just need someone who knows this ground. I will pay handsomely. And in aiding me, you will be ridding the lands of a great evil.' He paused as he saw their hard gaze. 'I understand what happened to you, believe me. I know what it is to be betrayed. To lose ones home. I watched my own father killed before my eyes. My people were made vagabonds in the wilderness.'

'Did you?' asked the leader, suddenly speaking. 'I have a similar story, King Varian. My house was burned to the ground by Trollbane's soldiers and I spents years scraping a living off rocks. It was a good day when I had enough to eat.

'Did you ever go hungry when you were fleeing from Stormwind? When you arrived in Lordaeron what hard labor were you put through to justify your existence? And what labor did you have to make to reclaim your birthright?'

Varian could say nothing. For he had never gone hungry. Even in exile, Lothar had ensured he'd had enough to eat. Nor had he had to labor as these people obviously had. King Terenas had treated him like an adopted son, and Arthas had been like his brother.

'You think that because your father was assassinated that you understand suffering.' said the leader. 'But you don't. You've never seen your own ribs. Everyone has always yielded and fawned over you. Favorite child of King Llane, like a son to King Terenas, a prodigy, a wise Prince even in youth.

'Hailed as a champion of his people because he had the decency to marry a peasant girl. Instead of throwing her back to the street.'

The reference to Tiffin was too far. Varian had heard scorn enough from the nobility and felt the cold eyes of Aiden on him as he defended his choice. And now he was being accuses of considering her no more than a common whore. His hand went to his sword-

In an instant, there were a dozen swords pointed at him from all directions. 'How dare you.' said Varian.

The leader smiled and arose. 'I dare much because I have little to lose. And much to gain.' Then he threw back his cloak. Beneath it Varian saw there was a shining coat of mail and a blue taberd. Upon it was the symbol of the Nation of Alterac. By his side was a royal sword. The bandit leader was gone and in his place stood a mighty Prince of Men. His eyes flashed, and Varian stepped backward.

'I am Aliden Pernolde.' said the Prince in a clear. 'Son of King Pernolde, the rightful ruler of Alterac. You offer to pay us handsomely for our assistance, King Varian. I say we talk price.'

* * *

King Terenas had been doing more paperwork today than he had in years. Still, he almost welcomed it. After his son's unofficial coup he'd found himself with time to rest for the first time in decades. It had been nice for the first few weeks, but soon he had found himself going mad with boredom. Now he was signing reports, arranging for promotions and such. In particular, he was giving orders to develop new farmland.

Then a door opened, and Uther entered. 'King Terenas we've just received a report from Stratholme. Our forces there have been attacked by overwhelming numbers of creeps. They had to retreat to the Scarlet Outposts. Stratholme is now in the control of a powerful Ogre Chieftain named Mug'thol. He calls himself a King.'

Terenas paused. Finally some action. 'This is very serious. Bolster the border forts. Repulse any assaults they make. Then call a council of our military commanders at Hearthglen. We must make plans to take that area back at once.'

Uther bowed. 'As you command, milord.'

Things were getting interesting again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

So as one person pointed out, the last line of the previous chapter could have easily been the end of the fic. Unfortunately, I have a lot of subplots to run through. That said, is it just me or is Arthas getting demoted to extra in his own fic? Ever since Dalaran, he has steadily faded in importance.

I guess I want to give the rest of the alliance a chance to shine. And give Arthas a break.

Also, I've finally come to a decision regarding the orc campaign. I'm only going to show the parts of it that change. I wanted to show the whole thing, but there are so many subplots going on right now that I can't do it in this fic.


	27. Resolutions

**Chapter 27: Resolutions**

Arthas had had a run of bad luck. He'd been present at one of the newly established Scarlet Forts when reports came in. Ogras had assaulted the forces at Mardenholde Keep. Said reports came in ahead of a ragged and tattered garrison. They'd been forced to run for their lives with all the assembled hosts of the Kingdom of the Creeps at their heels. Casualties had been heavy for they had been taken completely off guard.

Then they had set about fortifying their position. As they did that Captain Marwynn returned with news and told them of what had happened in Alterac.

'What did Aliden want?' asked Arthas.

'Formal recognition as King of Alterac and restitution paid to his people.' said Marwynn. 'Among other things. He also desired the services of stonemasons to help rebuild Alterac City.'

'That doesn't sound at all unreasonable.' mused Arthas.

'Well, we didn't give him that before.' noted Marwynn. 'So you can tell that to King Terenas and Thoras Trollbane.'

'Good point.' conceded Arthas. 'So how did the battle go?'

'Oh that went better than anyone expected.' said Marwynn. 'Aliden knew the highlands inside and out. With his guides, we quickly outflanked Varimathras and got him trapped in a valley. He started digging in. But Aliden knew a way into the valley which Varimathras didn't, and King Varian was able to sneak around. We got behind his rear and took him by surprise.

'There was a bit of this, and that and then the undead collapsed in. Varimathras escaped though.'

'Dreadlords tend to do that.' noted Arthas. 'On the brighter side of things, a new ogre warlord has united the creep races. He's and conquered Stratholme. Even now he is spreading destruction across the land. And is on his way here,'

Marwynn sighed. '…Please tell me you're joking.'

'I'm afraid not.' said Arthas.

'Well this is just typical isn't?' asked Marwynn. 'We finally crush the undead in the Alterac Mountains. And the next thing we know a last alliance of creeps assembles itself to attack us.'

'It makes sense. The Legion loves to use lesser evils against us.' said Arthas. 'They've probably been planning this as a delaying action. Every day we waste putting out fires in Lordaeron is a day they can have to rebuild their forces in Northrend.'

'Where the hell have you been anyway?' asked Marwynn. 'We could have used your help.'

'Doing paperwork.' admitted Arthas. 'Believe me; it hasn't been at all interesting. You were lucky to be in Varian's company; at least things were happening there.'

'So you've been doing paperwork for all this time?' asked Marwynn.

'Yes. That and making speeches in various villages. And healing the sick and injured for effect.' said Arthas. 'Oh and inspecting this fort before news came in we'd be using it. I've been organizing a nationwide order of fanatical servants of the light. That takes a lot of work. My forces are en route now, Whitemane is leading them.'

'Prince Arthas!' cried a soldier. 'The Scarlet Crusade has arrived!'

'Excellent.' said Arthas. 'Let's go to meet them shall we?'

The two moved to the walls outside and saw the Scarlet Crusade's new army approaching. They were clad mostly in hardened leather with axes and knives and spears. Yet there was a core of elite troops clad in steel armor. Arthas smiled as he saw their great number marching along the road. At their head was Sally Whitemane, staff in hand.

'There they are.' he said.

'…That's a much larger army than I was expecting.' said Marwynn. 'How did you get this kind of force?'

'I made a few speeches. Trained a few militias.' said Arthas. 'You would be surprised at just how easily motivated people are when faced with this kind of enemy.'

'They are lightly armored.' noted Marwynn.

'They're an auxiliary force.' said Arthas. 'I don't expect them to conquer the enemy single-handed. Just to fill out the ranks. Anyway, this is only a small part of what I hope to raise. Where is Varian anyway?'

'He was called to Hearthglen.' said Marwynn. 'I'm not sure why. King Terenas' orders.' 'Father wants me to rest, I suppose.' said Arthas. 'Open the gates!'

They met Sally Whitemane at the doors. As she rode in Arthas saw that the woman's outfit had changed. Where once her clothes had bared her cleavage and legs, now she wore a red skirt which concealed her lower body. Her shirt covered her body completely and did not cling as tightly, and she wore long red sleeves on her arms.

'Sally,' noted Arthas, 'you're dressed differently.'

'Yes.' said Whitemane. 'Lord Uther insists on me wearing more traditional robes.'

'How is Falric?' asked Arthas.

'Highlord Falric was called up by King Terenas to Hearthglen.' said Whitemane.

'Highlord Falric.' said Marwynn, whistling. 'And I thought I was lucky when I was assigned to Hearthglen as a garrison commander.'

'I'll find a position for you, Marwynn.' said Arthas. 'Light knows you've earned it.' He concealed his irritation. So many people were being called to Hearthglen and Arthas had not been told.'

At that moment Sylvanas came through the gate. She rushed up to him. 'Arthas, we have a problem.' 'What is it, Sylvanas?' asked Arthas.

'It's worse than we feared.' said Sylvanas. 'Our enemy has combined the might of the ogres, gnolls, trolls, and murlocs. Even as we speak, they are coming toward us.'

'Very well.' said Arthas. 'Prepare for battle!'

The walls were manned with archers and the soldiers. Even as they did so, they saw the ogres coming out of the trees. With them were vast hordes of forest trolls and gnolls and among them were many murlocs. At once they began to make camp, and their numbers were far larger.

Arthas eyed them.

'There certainly are a lot of them aren't there?' asked Marwynn.

'It matters not.' said Arthas, before unsheathing his hammer. He turned to the men. Many of them had not yet faced battle, and many were scared. 'Hold your ground, men of the Scarlet Crusade! The light stands with you! We shall not falter!'

Then they waited.

The assault came later that evening. Ogres moved forward to hurl great stones to shatter against the wall. Several groups of men were struck and thrown down. Catapults launched stones, and several ogres fell dead. Then on came the gnolls with many ladders. Arrows were launched into their midsts, and some fell. But the forest trolls hurled their axes behind them and some on the wall fell as well. An axe bounced off Arthas' pauldron, and he winded at the pain.

The ladders came up and on came the gnolls. Arthas struck down two of them. A soldier hacked one down with his axe, only to be run through. One of his comrades fell before both were avenged by a third. More stones were crashing against the walls, leaving great marks in the stonework.

Arthas swung his hammer and broke two ladders. Raising it, he healed many wounds. Marwynn strode to and fro, parrying a gnolls blade and then running it through. Sally Whitemane sent forth waves of light to drive back trolls as they scaled. Yet rather than pursue she turned to heal the wounded.

'Fight on!' cried Arthas. 'Don't let them take the walls!'

At that moment a great gnoll appeared on the battlements. It roared and fell on the defenders. Swinging its flail it bashed aside a row of soldiers, sending them falling from the wall. The defense began to fail.

Arthas rushed toward the gnoll who came upon Sally. She caught the flail with her staff and drove it back with the light, but it sprang again and knocked her aside. As she fell other gnolls rushed on her with slathering jaws.

But arrows flew out of nowhere and caught several in the back. Sylvanas stood atop the peak of a tower firing them. Arthas reached the gnolls as they recovered. He smashed several aside. Turning to see the gnolls leader savagely crushing the skull of a footman Arthas rushed at him. The gnoll brought round his flail, and their weapons clashed. Three more times they struck at one another, and the gnoll was driven back.

Arthas brought up one foot and kicked the gnoll. The creature slipped off the wall with a cry.

Then there came a cry from below.

'Murlocs!' cried a man. 'Murlocs are coming up through the well!'

Arthas raised his hammer. The light he healed the wounds on many of the recently slain and restored their souls to them. They rose again, and then he leaped down into the courtyard. Murlocs were streaming out of the well, chattering and fighting with the guards. Many were making for the gate.

He fell among them and smashed one's skull with his hammer. Striking again he sent another flying. Then he sent a wave of light which burned another. Finally, his blade was stopped. A small murloc had blocked it with a shell-shaped shield and now began stabbing at him. Such was the speed and fury of the assault that he could hardly keep from death. He was forced to withdraw, his hammer too slow to go on the offensive.

Then came a horn call — that of the Silver Hand. The murlocs looked up and looked to where they were fighting evenly. Then turned they fled back into the well. Arthas turned to his men. 'Guard the well. Make sure nothing gets out.'

He then rushed back up to the wall. Tirion Fordring had arrived with a contingent of knights. He and his son were leading the charge. Many ogres had fallen already. The creeps were beginning a retreat. But the ogres did not flee so easily.

At their head, a massive ogre, larger than all the others scattered a line of knights. He and his warriors held back the knights while the remaining creeps fled into the forest. Finally, they were away, and the ogre stomped the ground. The very strike shook the earth. Knights fell from their horses and men lost their footing.

And the ogre king escaped. Arthas assumed this was Mug'thol.

'They escaped.' said Arthas.

'It isn't all bad.' said Marwynn. 'We've taught them not to take us lightly.'

'I would have preferred to destroy their army entirely.' said Arthas.

'They were easily defeated, were they not?' asked Sally. 'Is this another trap?'

'Not really. The creep races mostly spend their time raiding and skirmishing with us.' said Arthas. 'None of them, except the forest trolls and ogres, have any history of pitched battles. And they were mostly auxiliary forces for the horde. They aren't trained for this kind of war.' He looked at Sally. 'Sally, something is different about you?'

'Lord Uther instructed me to focus on healing and support.' said Whitemane. 'He was very insistent that I change my outfit.'

'A tragedy.' said Sylvanas, coming up. Her quiver was empty. 'Why did you wear that in the first place?'

'It was Renault's suggestion.' said Sally 'He said that it would help motivate the men.'

'I'm sure it did.' said Arthas 'But I think the robes are better. They give you more dignity.'

'Speak for yourself.' muttered Marwynn, not quite quietly enough.

'Marwynn take charge of things here.' said Arthas. 'I'm going to go out and meet Fordring.'

Fordring was riding up to the gate now. 'Prince Arthas we've come to support you.'

'And your timing was good.' said Arthas. 'I only wish that we had brought the enemy to a decisive battle. Who sent you?'

'King Terenas instructed us to go to relieve you.' said Tirion. 'However, I would have saved my home even if the situation had been otherwise.'

'I appreciate it.' said Arthas, before turning to the men and walking among them. He healed the injured and said encouragements wherever they walked. Many of them had been in their first battle today. When that was done, he went out to meet with Tirion Fordring directly. 'Tirion Fordring I am told that my father is holding a meeting. Where is it?'

'In Hearthglen.' said Tirion. 'They are meeting as we speak.'

'Do you know why I was not invited?' asked Arthas.

'Need you ask?' asked Taelon.

'I don't care what you think of my actions, Fordring.' snapped Arthas. 'I command the largest armies in Lordaeron. I should have been consulted.'

'You command?' asked Tirion. 'You seem to forget that we are all subjects of King Terenas.'

'I've had all I can bear of you.' said Arthas. 'Taelon Fordring, you are Lord of Mardenholde Keep. I am going to have to ask you to put up a larger force of soldiers than normal until the crisis has passed.'

'As you say.' said Taelon.

'You will coordinate with Captain Marwynn. The militia of the Scarlet Crusade will return home.' said Arthas.

'Should we not keep them here?' asked Tirion.

'They only owe me a months service.' said Arthas. 'These men are not professional soldiers. They must go back to tend their farms when the war is over. And I don't mean to keep them from them.'

'That is wise.' said Tirion.

Mardenholde Keep was a wreck. The walls were cracked and broken. The masonry was lying shattered in many places. As the sun faded behind the mountains, it looked even more mournful. Villagers wandered among the wreckage of their homes. The creeps had ransacked them, and they were in a poor position.

Casualties had been much higher on their enemies side. The creeps had evidently not expected, so firm a defense and several hundred had fallen — the humans who fell a little over a hundred.

And on the fields, the bodies were being piled in great heaps. Ogres were difficult to move, and it took nearly ten men to shift even one body. The labor was long and hard, but at last, the pyres had been lit. No undead would gain from the victory here. And the smoke of the burning corpses would be seen from high heaven.

Arthas looked at it from a hilltop with his hammer lying over his knees. A few guards stood by him, just in case. However, he did not need them. Eventually, Sally came before him as he had requested. 'You called, Prince of Light?'

'Sally, I need to speak with you.' said Arthas, turning to her.

'How may I serve?' she asked.

Arthas stood. 'You've been in Uther's company for a while. I want you to tell me what he has been up to. What news has he received?'

'He has been instructing people in the ways of the light.' said Sally. 'Many more students have gone to him. Abbendis and I are advancing under his study. When I was called into service, he ordered that Abbendis stay behind.' She shifted uneasily. 'I believe he favors her.'

'Right, what of Varian?' asked Arthas. 'Have you heard any news of him?'

'No.' said Whitemane. 'None that has been brought to Lord Uther. But stories of his deeds have been told among the people. I am told that King Terenas was very pleased with him.'

'Pleased with him for routing the remnant of the empire I destroyed?' asked Arthas. 'That is typical. No matter, we'll see what all this is about. Sylvanas I want you to keep vigil over this land. Send me regular reports. Sally, gather your forces and prepare to disperse them back to their homes. When you're done, meet me at Hearthglen.' He would not be outdone by Varian Wrynn.

* * *

The Druids of Silvermoon were to be found within a sprawling metropolis. This did not bode well. Malfurion had always believed that Druids must be at one with nature. He had been awoken several times in the past to respond to one crisis or another. In that time he had seen shifts in the culture of the night elves. Some sought new ways to gain more food from plants than was naturals. Others changed the wilds to their liking.

But they had always lived in nature. Not in this place of gold and white and bustling crowds. One could not hear the birds in this place. The trees were all magically induced to grow on away or another. Nothing was wild here. And there were so many people, people dressed in all kinds of bright colors and garbs. Warriors clad in shining mail policed the streets.

Prince Kael'thas took it all in stride. 'How can you stand the press of this place?' asked Malfurion.

'One gets used to it.' said Kael'thas. 'I've lived here all my life. Though I do prefer open fields and woods sometimes.'

That was something.

Suddenly there was a clamor ahead. Kael'thas quickened his pace and Malfurion moved after him. Soon the two emerged into a square. Several pale looking and pitiful elves were being clapped in chains.

'Hold!' cried Kael'thas, drawing his sword. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'Prince Kael'thas I'm sorry.' said a blonde elf. 'These men were driven mad by the plague. We had to restrain them to keep them from harming others.'

'Magic…' gasped the elf. 'I need magic… I have to feed…'

'Kill the filthy wretched!' cried some one.

'If any elf brings harm to these they will feel my blade!' cried Kael'thas, silencing the crowd. Then he turned to the soldiers. 'Confine them at the abbey but don't do any harm. Let the monks tend to them. Remember the will of my Father. These elves are not monsters. They were victims to be pitied and healed, not beaten.'

'Yes milord.' said the soldier.

Kael'thas remained silent as they walked away. ' I apologize for that, Druid Stormrage. Since the Sunwell's fall, many of my brethren have been driven mad. We hunger for something that we now lack.

'Some have claimed we should exterminate them. However, my father and I have rejected this utterly.'

Memories came to Malfurion. Memories of long ago a gnawing at the center of his being brought to an end by a shimmering pool. 'I know of what you speak.' said Malfurion. 'For I have felt it myself.'

'You have?' asked Kael'thas.

'Long ago my people shared an innate connection to a fount of magical power called the Well of Eternity.' said Malfurion. 'It sustained us and gave us great power — some more than others. However, in the war with the Burning Legion, our enemies sought to use it to bring Sageras into the world. The Well was destroyed, and afterward, we felt its loss.

'Many of us were nearly driven mad.'

'How did you cure this epidemic?' asked Kael'thas.

Malfurion considered the question. 'We never had the chance to. At the time we had been making plans to wean ourselves off and gradually remove our races reliance on it. However, my brother Illidan attempted to recreate the Well of Eternity. Once again magical power flowed from it.

'A great tree was grown over it to prevent it from being misused. The dragon aspects blessed it, and through that blessing, we gained eternal life.'

'Am I to understand that this Illidan's technique cured your people?' asked Kael'thas.

It was exactly the opposite of what Malfurion had wanted to portray. 'It would be more accurate to say it fed the hunger. The true cure was the tree, Nordrassil. It allowed us to overcome our addiction.'

'Might it do the same for my own people?' asked Kael'thas.

'I… I do not know enough to be sure.' said Malfurion. 'That is not my decision to make, however, even if I knew it would work. For I do not rule the night elves. It is Cenarius who does. You would have to speak with him.'

'Could you arrange for me an audience?' asked Kael'thas.

'I could.' conceded Malfurion. 'However, I should not hold out hope for much. What you ask may be impossible.'

'If there is even a chance I must try.' said Kael'thas. 'I remember my Father told me that the Sunwell was blessed by the red dragon flight. I had thought it only myth.'

'Myth?' asked Malfurion.

'Yes.' said Kael'thas. 'The idea that the red dragon flight is a divine power has become… less credible of late.'

Malfurion could see why. The flights were badly depleted, and these people had suffered grievously. He must do what he could to sway them back. 'I should not be so quick to judge them. Not everything is as it always appears. Oftentimes the dragon flight has worked unseen from the shadows and done great good.'

'We should continue to my father.' said Kael'thas.

* * *

It was yet another meeting. The first meeting had seen them dispatching troops and reallocating resources. Now King Terenas held another one in the wake of their victory. Not all at the council were there directly. The ghostly image of Princess Calia was there from the throne room in Lordaeron. She'd requested a position. 'We've received a letter from Prince Arthas.' said Falric 'The ogres have been repulsed. However, they were unable to completely destroy them.'

'Similar news from Garithos and Muradin.' said Calia. 'Though it was more a raid than invasions. Murlocs have become more violent lately. Often the gnolls and ogres will launch an assault in one place, the forest trolls another. Then the murlocs swim down river to strike a third.

It has been a devil of a time tracking them down. The militia we've been training has been hard pressed to hold them back.'

'Unfortunate.' said Varian. 'Still, at least we haven't suffered any serious losses. And our new soldiers are getting a bit of experience.'

'But we have.' said Terenas. 'We've lost time. Every moment that we delay ensures the undead in Northrend will be that much more powerful. No, we cannot afford a delay like this. We need to reestablish our outposts in Northrend as soon as possible.

'Varian what would you do in this situation?'

'I would stage a diversion.' said Varian. 'Garithos and Muradin could launch a strike into creep territory to draw off their forces. At the same time, we could coordinate with the elves and strike a two-pronged assault. If we strike hard enough, we won't have to strike again.'

Terenas smiled. It was a good plan, and he was pleased to see that Varian was living up to his expectations. Something told him, something he had not heard before, that Arthas would not have been so careful. He would have rushed to battle at once.

Terenas felt a sense of shame for the pride he felt for Varian. Pride which was not as great for Arthas. Perhaps it was his fault. He had coddled Arthas while Varian had been trained from a young age. And Arthas had been given responsibility too quickly. It had nearly broken him.

Either way, he could not change the past. Terenas would have to fix things somehow. 'Excellent. Take charge of it.'

'Wait.' said Calia.

'What is it, Calia?' asked Terenas. He felt a surge of irritation that he hardly kept out of her voice. Why did he feel this way? She'd been a great support to him?

'There is an alternative.' said Calia. 'I've received news that creps throughout Lordaeron are all migrating to Stratholme. They are gathering there in great numbers.'

'If anything this makes it all the more important that we crush them.' said Varian.

'You didn't let me finish.' said Calia. 'What if we recognize this Mug'thol in exchange for peace?'

'You cannot be serious milady.' said Falric.

What was this fool girl thinking? As if she had any idea what it took to rule!

What was he thinking? He hadn't even heard her out yet.

'Why not?' Calia asked. 'Stratholme is a no man's land. It is an ideal place for the Legion to launch an invasion. If the ogres take it, they can guard it for us. And since all the creeps are heading there, it will decrease the raids in surrounding areas.'

'Won't it create a more powerful enemy?' asked Varian.

'Not really. Ogres aren't known for their intelligence.' said Calia. 'This Kingdom of the Creeps won't last. It'll fracture of the creatures will be tearing each other to shreds in a few months. Once the situation is more secure, we can simply move in and finish off the winner.'

The plan worked. Creeps had been fighting each other as well as the alliance for centuries. They were hardly the most intelligent races. '…That may well work. Well done Calia, we'll try for your strategy.'

'King Terenas we should not do this.' said Falric. 'I've seen ogre raids. These monsters should be purged while we still have the chance.'

'I agree.' said Varian. 'It is too much to chance.'

Terenas smiled. Ever the bold wasn't he? 'Varian sometimes you must accept a less than ideal situation to gain a greater victory later. What we need now is a truce, not another minor war.'

'Yes, King Terenas.' said Varian.

'Now,' said Terenas, 'a final question. Where the devil is Krasus? He was supposed to be here? And why didn't he send someone in his place?'

'Rhonin was injured during the attempts to purify Dalaran.' said Falric. 'And Krasus left him in charge.'

'But where is he?' asked Terenas. 'Doesn't he realize how important this is?'

'Apparently not.' said Falric. 'Apparently, this isn't the first time this has happened.'

King Terenas facepalmed. 'Very well. That makes a problem. I had hoped to get the approval from the remaining Alliance nations. But since neither Rhonin nor Krasus are here, and Prince Kael'thas is indisposed, we can't do that.'

'Why not?' asked Varian.

'What?' said Terenas. 'The alliance was founded on mutual trust. We cannot go over their heads.'

'Dalaran doesn't exist anymore, Terenas.' said Varian. 'The entire Kirin Tor is based in a settlement from Lordaeron. They aren't a sovereign nation so much as an order like that of Silver Hand. Uther Lightbringer isn't being allowed in on this council.

'And I don't remember Lothar having a seat among the King's of the Alliance.'

'I…' Terenas paused. 'that is true. But out of courtesy, they should be here.'

'They had their chance.' said Varian. 'Rhonin could have appointed someone to go in his stead. Or at least chosen a second in command before he got injured.'

'That still leaves Quel'thalas.' noted Calia.

'The elves don't share a border with Alterac.' said Varian. 'It won't affect them. Do you truly think Anastarian would oppose us in this? The decision is for the good of the entire Alliance and will make us far stronger.'

'We do not have the right to let people into Alliance without consulting the others.' said Calia. 'It is against the treaty. The decision must be unanimous.'

'True,' said Terenas, 'fortunately they never left.'

'What?' said Calia.

'We never intended to destroy Alterac.' said Terenas. 'So we never formally dissolved it. We had intended to find a new King for it, but that entire fiasco with Deathwing ruined that. Lordaeron had to take control in order to maintain peace. So we wouldn't be so much inducting Alterac into the alliance as choosing a new King.'

'I wonder if the elves will see it that way.' said Calia.

'Alterac suffer grievously by our hands.' said Varian. 'We owe it to them to restore some measure of their old power and dignity.'

'My mother died in the siege of Lordaeron, Varian.' said Calia. 'The Kingdom deserved to be dissolved. And it's lands are rightfully ours in recompense for their treachery.'

'Quiet, Calia.' said Terenas. 'We will discuss the details later. For now, we must not allow old hatreds to cloud our judgment. Alterac will be restored.' He paused. 'Now I suppose we should make plans for a coronation.'

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay, let's just get this out of the way.

Arthas has been less prominent because he has been doing paperwork this entire time. It hasn't been very interesting. King Terenas deliberately ensured he had no time to do anything else. The subplots which are running are important, both to Arthas and to the narrative. Malfurion's plotline details the possibility of Lordaeron being healed. A core source of angst is the marring of the land, so that is important. But Arthas is organizing the Scarlet Crusade. And that is of little importance to Malfurion and Kael'thas has his own arc which is important to the story.

Varian's plotline is also important. His rivalry with Arthas is absolutely critical to both their characters. But if Varian is going to be a rival to Arthas he has to have some victories which Arthas has had nothing to do with. Thus the past few chapters.

Lastly, the subplot of the Kingdom of the Creeps and Varimathras is the Legion stalling for time. If Varimathras weren't making a nuisance of himself, the Legion would have lost. While Mug'thol pales in comparison to Archimonde, he still serves a crucial purpose.


	28. Where Wyverns Dare

**Chapter Twenty-eight: Where Wyverns Dare**

The Kingdom of the Creeps which had once been unified now held the sound of arguments. Around the round table, the knights of Mug'thol yelled at one another. They sought to blame one or the other for their efforts.

'You murlocs were supposed to open the gates from within!' cried Snarlmane.

Murky said something petulant.

'And you gnolls were supposed to be taking the walls.' noted Zul'jin. 'How was I to do that with rocks raining down on our heads?' asked Snarlmane 'The ogres kept throwing them long after they were supposed to!'

Mug'thol smashed his club against the table. 'Quiet! We fight among ourselves! Make humans laugh at us! This setback! We make plan! We get stronger!

Humans come to take back! When humans come we crush!'

Silence. No one wanted to let the humans win so there wouldn't be any violence. Yet. At that moment a door opened, and a forest troll slipped in. 'Zul'jin, there be a messenger from human lands who be wanting to speak with Mug'thol.'

'Let him in.' said Zul'jin.

A human entered. He was tall with brown hair and wore leather and held a staff in his hand. He fell to one knee before Mug'thol. 'Greetings to you, mighty Mug'thol. I am an emissary of King Terenas. My King is impressed by your valor and skill at arms. He wishes to recognize your authority over Stratholme. Along with those domains now under your influence. However, so long as battles still wage between us, he cannot do so.

'He desires to speak with you on the border before the gates of Mardenholde Keep. To begin negotiations to arrange a truce between our peoples.'

Mug'thol remained silent for a moment. 'Mug'thol accept. Mug'thol speak with tiny King. But not suffer treachery.'

'Then I will return to him and bring your answer.' said the emissary.

'You cannot be being serious.' said Zul'jin. 'You be wanting to negotiate with dese human scum?'

'Mug'thol know human mind.' said Mug'thol. 'They think they can beat us. But they want to beat legion more. We make peace. They beat legion. We grow stronger. Then we beat them.'

'…If that be yer plan then I be having another.' said Zul'jin. 'I be heading to Zul'aman to whip up my boys. I'll have to draw em back from Quel'thalas and that gonna be no easy task.

'Dis had better be worth it.'

'Mug'thol know what Mug'thol doing.' said Mug'thol.

But his voice was grim.

* * *

The sun beat down on the Horde as it marched onwards through the desert. Evey so often peons and various warriors had broken off. They had founded villages in one favorable place or another. Now Thrall was marching with a greatly reduced force. Yet he urged his wolf onwards while the orcs around him trudged on.

Here and there they had faced skirmishes with the centaur or quilboars. But there were fleeting combats and the heat beat down ever harder. Trees and sand were all they could find in this bitter land.

'Warchief, we've been trudging through this wasteland for a week with nothing to fight but centaurs and pig men!' said a warrior. 'We need real enemies to test our mettle!'

'Yes.' said Thrall. 'Boredom and the beating sun have put us all on edge. But we must press on. All will be made clear once we've reached the Oracle.' He wished he could believe it.

'As you say, Warchief.' said the grunt.

At that moment they saw a violet banner and a troop of orcs marching to meet them.

'Look Warchief!' said a warrior. 'It's the Warsong Clan!'

Thrall urged his wolf forward to meet the leader, a massive orc with an equally massive axe. The leader ran to him. 'Lok'tar Grom! We have been searching for you!'

'And we for you, little brother.' said Grom. 'It's been an entertaining few days, but I tire of this rabble. I almost wish the humans were still here so we could face them.'

'Well I do not.' said Thrall. 'I brought us here to escape senseless conflict. The wars have badly hurt the Horde, and many of us broke off to join the Blackrock Clan.'

'So what do we do now?' asked Grom.

'We're heading for Stonetalon Peak.' said Thrall, motioning to the mountain that towered over the others. 'There is an Oracle there who can see the strands of fate. I believe that they can tell us the destiny of our people.'

'As good a plan as any.' said Grom. 'I hope we may find some worthy enemies in this place at last.'

Thrall looked around. There was more green in this place. And also a great deal of water. 'There is some good land here. Saurfang, have some warriors a village here. Then we will press on to the Oracle.'

'As you say, Warchief.' said a warrior.

They made their way through the rugged land and were faced with no enemy. The centaur evaded them rather than face them directly. The quillboars were nowhere to be seen. Thrall and Grom pressed through the pass and finally came to the base of Stonetalon Peak.

Here they halted and sent out scouts to find what they could of the terrain. When the scouts returned, they said that the hills were filled with centaur villages. Thrall was about to order a sortie when the tramp of hooves was heard.

Looking up he saw Cairne Bloodhoof and his warriors approaching. Thrall went to meet him. The tauren planted his halberd in he ground. 'Ish-ne-alo por-ah, young Warchief!' he said.

'Cairne!' said Thrall. 'What are you doing here?'

'Our debt to you orcs can only be repaid with blood.' said Cairne. 'We've come to help you reach the Oracle. However, the centaur are thick as rats in this region. They may be trouble.'

'They seem intent on keeping us from the peak.' noted Thrall.

'The Oracle's wisdom belongs to all.' mused Cairne. 'We will help you defeat them. Yet who is this with you?' He looked to Grom.

'This is Grom Hellscream a longtime friend of mine and the Chieftain of the Warsong Clan.' said Thrall. 'Hellscream this is Cairne Bloodhoof. He and his tauren are mighty warriors that aided us before.'

'That remains to be seen.' grunted Grom.

'Tell me, young Warchief,' said Cairne, 'have you spoken with the night elves?'

'Night elves?' asked Thrall. 'What are you talking about?'

'Strange, they made after you when they spoke with me.' said Cairne thoughtfully.

'We have seen no elves.' said Grom.

'Who are they?' asked Thrall.

'An ancient race, wise in the lore of the spirits.' said Cairne. 'It seems that they were told of your coming, young Warchief, by a race called humans.'

'Humans? Here?' asked Thrall. 'How could they have gotten here?'

'Same way we did, little brother.' said Grom.

'Whatever the way your actions seem to have impressed the elves.' said Cairne. 'I believe they may still be watching us now.'

'Where?' asked Thrall, looking around.

He saw nothing at all. His warriors gazed as well, but none saw anything. Then gradually out of the shadows of the trees emerged many leather clad elves. Their skin was violet. They had bows and wore curved knives. Among them were also creatures like centaurs. But with the bodies of deer and the torso of beautiful women with hair like leaves.

'Women!' cried an orc. 'They're women!'

Indeed they were women. And all of them were beautiful and clad in very little. Their leader came forward upon the back of a white tiger. With her were other elves wearing armor and wielding glaives. They sat on the backs of panthers. Yet she wore no helm and was more beautiful than any of the elves within this place.

'I am Tyrande Whisperwind of the night elves.' said the leader. 'I can lead you to the oracle of Stonetalon Peak. However, it cannot be reached on foot. You will need some means of reaching the top.'

'We should hire a goblin zeppelin.' said Grom.

'There is a goblin workshop in this region.' said Cairne. 'Or so I have heard. The little green-skinned creatures buy and sell to all and may be found in all manner of places. We should look for it.'

The scouts returned. 'Warchief, the centaurs have we've found a goblin settlement. However, the centaurs have destroyed it and killed all the goblins. From the looks of things they have also destroyed the villages of the quillboar in the region.'

'Damn these centaurs.' said Thrall. 'Take us to the settlement. Perhaps they will have left behind some equipment we can use.' He looked to Tyrande. 'We will have to continue this conversation later.'

The scouts led them to the village. But they found only carnage and death. The goblins had been impaled on stakes. Their equipment and tools had been smashed and thrown into fires. Many zeppelins had been hacked to pieces and set aflame as well.

Even before they began to search through the wreckage Thrall knew it was hopeless.

'They've destroyed everything.' said a warrior.

'There may be another way, young Warchief.' said Cairne. 'I journeyed here long ago. The wyverns may well bring us to the peak. Actually, I am surprised they have not yet approached us. I was once known as their friend, many years ago. I will scale the heights and see what I may.'

And he wandered off with his personal troop. Thrall returned to camp and met with Tyrande Whisperwind. 'Now tell me what interest your people have in me, elf? Why have you stalked us?'

'We were sent by our master, Cenarius.' said Tyrande. 'We were told by a race called humans that your kind worshipped demons. That you spearheaded an invasion by the Burning Legion.'

'That was long ago.' said Thrall. 'My people were enslaved by the Legion and forced to attack the humans. The humans are our enemies from across the sea. We left this place to escape the growing shadow there. And also to cease the meaningless battles in that place.'

'Enslaved?' asked Tyrande. 'How?' She did not look like she believed him.

Thrall paused. He realized that this was a subject he knew very little about. Grom had never been one to talk about it. Neither had any of the other orcs. 'In the distant past, my people lived upon a world called Draenor. We were shamans who lived at harmony with nature and were an honorable and peaceful people.

'Then the Warlock Gul'dan deceived us. Because of him, we were corrupted by the demons.

'We were driven mad, and Gul'dan ruined the land. We were forced to flee to another world. This world.'

'So you ruined your world.' said Tyrande. 'Then tried to take ours rather than face responsibility for your actions. And now that you have failed to seize the lands of the humans you have come here. With dreams of conquering softer targets.'

The unsympathetic and way in which Tyrande dismissed his people's plight angered him. But he saw that Cairne held her in reference, as did all the tauren.

'You twist my words.' said Thrall.

'Do I?' asked Tyrande, 'Did this Gul'dan enslave the wills of all your people?'

'We were driven by demonic bloodthirst.' said Thrall.

'There are three ways one can become the slave of a demon.' said Tyrande, 'One is to be driven utterly mad by their will so that you are little more than an extension of their evil. Another is to serve their ends unknowingly. The last is to give in willingly and pledges oneself to their service. It is the third that is most deadly for they possess the power to reason. To calculate and strategize.

'Your race is clearly not mad. And you know you have been their pawn so it cannot be the second. Therefore the only possibility is that you served them willingly.'

'You know nothing of my people!' cried Thrall, 'Have you walked in the ruins of our homeworld?!'

'Have you?' asked Tyrande.

Thrall had no answer.

'She is right.' said Grom suddenly.

'What?' said Thrall.

He looked to his friend and Grom looked weaker and older than Thrall had ever seen him. The orc was leaning on his axe and looked more like a bent old man, weighed down by years.

'Thrall,' said Grom. 'you and the younger orcs have always been told that the demons corrupted our race. But that's only half true. We gave ourselves up willingly on Draenor. Long before the demons revealed themselves, we were killing our neighbors. We were despoiling the land.

'The other chieftains and I… we drank Mannoroth's blood, Thrall. We brought this curse upon ourselves!'

Thrall stared at him. Horror came to him. Had the humans been right? That couldn't be. 'Why did you not tell me?! Why didn't Orgrim-'

'Because our people needed hope.' said Grom. 'All that sustained us was the legacy of a noble warrior past that never really existed. If they knew how we fell into the demons sway. How effortlessly they ensnared us, they would have submitted to them without question.

'We lied because if we didn't, we would be slaves to the humans forever.'

Thrall remained silent for a long moment. He had been deceived, and he felt angrier than he had in years. 'What the hell is wrong with you, Grom?! You and Orgrim lied to us! All of us! All these years we believed that we had been enslaved, and now you tell me that our crimes began long before that?!'

'Thrall,' said Grom, 'if I had told you the truth. If Ogrim had told you everything, would you have led the Horde? Would you have even stayed with us?'

The answer was no. At the very least he would have had no respect for Ogrim or Grom. Would the orcs now be in internment camps languishing? Or worse, slaves to Blackmoore? Or victims of Aiden Wrynn's malice? The latter seemed the most likely.

Thrall remembered well the eyes of that monster. His cold gaze as he surveyed those who opposed him. The bodies hanging from trees. And yet what he had seen had been but a hint of his enemy's unfathomable evil.

Grom had made the right decision. At least as far as the Horde was concerned.

'…So be it.' said Thrall. 'We will move forward. And make sure nothing like that ever happens again.' He would deal with this later.

'Well spoken.' said Tyrande. 'I will return to Cenarius and tell him of your people. He will decide whether you will be allowed to remain in these lands.'

'Who are you to disallow us?' asked Grom.

'All who dwell in Kalimdor do so with the blessings of Cenarius.' said Tyrande. 'You had best hope he hears your story kindly.'

Then she turned and rode off. Her warriors went with her leaving the Horde by itself. At that moment Cairne Bloodhoof returned, halberd on his back. 'Terrible news, Warchief. The centaur have imprisoned the wyverns!' He paused. 'What if wrong? The spirits rage around you. They sense your anguish. Your grief.'

'It is nothing, Cairne.' said Thrall. 'We'll pay back the satyrs for the villages they've burned and free the wyverns.'

'I will lead you.' said Cairne.

The Horde made its way into the hills and soon came across the centaur village. The horsemen had made their camp within a valley and were in great numbers. At the center were many cages where the wyverns were trapped. They were so close together they could not stretch their wings. They looked like a mix between a wolf and a lion and had a scorpions tail. There were many harpies flying around them.

'Why have they seized them?' asked Thrall.

'Centaurs sometimes ally with the harpies.' said Cairne. 'And the harpies train them as slaves.'

'Let me lead the attack, little brother.' said Grom. 'It is the least I can do.'

'Not yet Grom.' said Thrall. 'That area is a chokepoint. Cairne is there any other way by land?'

'No.' said Cairne. 'However, the cliffs may be climbed. The centaurs have no talent for scaling heights. So they will likely be unguarded, save perhaps by harpys.'

'Then here is my plan.' said Thrall. 'I will have the swiftest climbers among the Horde scale those heighs. Grom, you will lead them up there. At the same time, Cairne and I will go out and make a great show of force. It will thus draw off the centaurs to the front while you throw down ropes and attack them from the rear.'

'A sound plan, young Warchief.' said Cairne. 'Do you feel up to it, Hellscream?'

'I am neither old or helpless.' said Grom. 'I am a warrior! Come, my brothers! The Warsong clan to me!' And he rushed off.

Thus the plan was laid. Thrall and Cairne arrayed themselves before the centaur, and the creatures readied themselves. A horn call was sounded, and the creatures rushes down toward them. Thrall sent a bolt of lightning to surge through their ranks. The smell of burning horse flew reached his nostrils. Jungle trolls hurled their spears at the harpies, who in turn sent bolts of dark magic at them.

Then the battle was joined. Cairne cut down two centaurs with his halberd. A centaur cleaved an orc before hewing down a tauren. Drenosh Saurfang cut him down and another beside him. Thrall rode amongst them, bashing with his hammer and sending spells around him.

Then Grom arrived and rushed down from behind. The centaurs had no time to respond and were hemmed in on either side. Some broke free from the press of bodies and fled, while others formed a ring and fought to the bitter end.

At last, all that remained of them were dead or had run away.

Now the Horde made its way into the village. Here they found the centaur women and children hiding as best they could. They were trapped. Several tauren and orcs moved forward, but Thrall raised his hammer.

'No!' he cried. 'We are not as we once were. Let the women and children live and flee to whatever fastness they can find. Free the wyverns.'

Reluctantly the orcs obeyed. However, Cairne's people looked to their chieftain. Thrall could tell that many of them would gladly slaughter every one of them.

'Do as the warchief says.' said Cairne. 'We will not sink to the devils level and kill women and children.' He looked to Thrall. 'Our feud with the centaur is bitter. Yet there is wisdom in your words.'

They came to the cages and broke them open. Out streamed the wyverns to fly free in the cliffs above, roaring triumphantly in freedom. Then they came downward and landed around them, their bat wings folded.

One of them, tall and gray, came forward and made noises. Thrall could not understand it, but Cairne, it seemed, could. He turned to Thrall. 'The wyverns are safe. They pledge their gratitude to you, Warchief and ask how they may repay you?'

'Tell them we wish to travel to Stonetalon Peak.' said Thrall.

The wyverns made a noise. 'They have agreed to take you.' said Cairne. 'Along with any others you choose.'

'Great.' said Thrall. 'Drenosh you will remain here and see to it that any other wyverns who might be imprisoned are freed. Grom, Cairne, you and your personal guards will come with me to see the oracle.'

'Finally.' said Grom. 'This was a fine battle if ever there was one. Enough to shake the sleep from my eyes, at least. However, I want to see this prophet who dragged us all the way from Lordaeron.'

'The prophet and the oracle are two different beings.' said Thrall. 'Or at least, I think they may be. Though I wonder where the prophet has been all this time. No matter, we'll learn soon enough.' He looked to his personal guard. 'To Stonetalon Peak!'

* * *

It was an ancient meeting place, long ago set aside by the Five Dragon Aspects during happier times. In those days the world had been new, the continents had been one, and no demon had ever set foot upon Azeroth.

It was a place of many white pillars and could be reached on foot only by scaling a long and winding stair. The path was narrow, and Krasus was afraid he would slip and fall. Of course, he knew he could just transform into his true form and fly up, but he had been an elf for a very long time. His instincts were heavy in place. And it was traditional that meetings should be held here in the guise of mortals.

He reached the top and found the shrine at last. It was four pillars. One of bronze. Another of red steel. A third of blue crystal, and a fourth of green wood. There was also a gap where once there had been a pillar of black iron. But that had long since broken and fallen away into nothingness. The pillars channeled a shield that was invisible to the eyes of all but the most perceptive mages. No mortal had ever set foot here.

And there was his wife, waiting for him. Alexstrasza remained among the most radiantly beautiful of all creatures in this world. Whether in the garb of an elf or dragon did not matter. Her red hair fell around her shoulders, and her black horns had golden rings on them. Her clothes were red, and she was matched only by her sister, Ysera. The latter stood in the form of a night elf with green hair wearing a green outfit. Then there was Nozdormu, who might have been in the form of a human but if so Krasus did not know. For he wore gold and black robes wrapped around him and his face was hidden.

'My Queen, I have come as you requested.' said Krasus.

'Korialstrasz I'm glad you are here.' said Alexstrasza. 'The others are here as well. All save Malygos, and he is coming.'

'Queen Ysera it has been some years.' said Krasus, feeling his old self again.

'Yes. I remember well your part in the defeat of Deathwing, Korialstratz.' said Ysera. 'I am glad to know that you continue your efforts even now.'

'Is the Emerald Dream well, Ysera?' asked Korialstrasz.

'I wish I could say it was.' said Ysera. 'But darkness has fallen over that place. Yet we should discuss this later. We have been waiting for Malygos a long time, and he has yet to appear.'

'We will have to start without him and hope he arrives.' said Alexstrasza. 'Nozdormu tell us of what troubles you?'

'My friends, fate itself has been thrown aside.' said Nozdormu. 'For thousands of years events have been heading toward a single goal — the destruction of the World Tree. Either Archimonde would reach the summit and end all who lived. Or it would undo him, and the next age of the world will begin.

'But now all that is lost. Archimonde is wounded terribly and will be far more cautious in any other attack. I do not think he will seek the World Tree now until all else is conquered. Even so, he may die of his wounds, or be slain in his recovery.

'The prophecies are all in ruins. And none of them will now be fulfilled as we expected. The Prince of Light who becomes a King of Darkness has turned back too early. I do not understand how this happened.'

'Nozdormu you have always thought too much of fate and too little of those who bear the destiny.' said Alexstrasza chidingly. 'The Prince of Light had to have the chance to turn. If mortals could not refuse their destiny, then free will would be but an illusion. And life would be meaningless. It was laid out this way long ago before any world had been formed.

'Things may turn badly still. But many things are already turning to good. Friendship is being made between the races. And Archimonde may arise to find an Azeroth united against him. Much evil may yet be averted.'

'And always evil will take on a new form to face the good.' said Ysera. 'I fear that I have bad tidings. Some terrible darkness has been awakened by the coming of the Lich King. The Emerald Dream is under siege. The corruption which gripped the land has emboldened the dark things of nature. My flights will not be able to aid you.

'Even now much of my thought and power is focused on keeping the dream pure.'

'This grieves me.' said Alexstrasza. 'But still, perhaps Malygos-'

Everything went cold. A mist of blue arose around them before concentrating before the blue pillar. Out of it walked Malygos, but he was not in the form of an elf. His form was human and his gaze filled with hatred. The other three shifted uneasily. Korialstrasz found himself backing away. Malygos walked into the center of the room, very calm.

'Malygos we had thought you were not coming.' said Alexstrasza 'I am glad-'

'My apprentice is dead.' said Malygos.

The words were fridged and to the point. Alexstrasza faltered. '…I grieve for you, Malygos, and young Kalecgos. This war has claimed too many of our flights already.'

'You grieve?' asked Malygos. 'Yet it is your fault that he is dead in the first place?! Do not mock me with your crocodile tears, Alexstrasza! You have always viewed your duties as unwanted, and your family as tools!'

Alexstrasza stepped back. Her eyes widened. ''Why do you speak this way Malygos? I have not-'

'Kalecgos and Tyrygosa were sent by me to Lordaeron to report on events there.' said Malygos. 'But both were seized by the wizards of the Kirin Tor whom Korialstrasz was held in high regard! They were experimented on, humiliated and caged! And what escape did Korialstrasza manage?!'

This was bad. 'Lord Malygos I-' began Korialstrasz.

'He was skinned alive!' roared Malygos. 'Flayed by a demon of the Burning Legion because you could not be bothered to free him!' Then suddenly his spell was cast, and Korialstrasz found himself unable to breathe. He was crushed to the ground as power surged around him. 'Traitor! Betrayer of kin! I'll tear your flesh from your bones! I'll freeze your very being!'

'Malygos no!' cried Ysera.

Alexstrasza and the others moved, and the spell was sent back. Alexstrasza stepped between Korialstrasza and Malygos. 'No dragon has ever killed another in this place! Even Deathwing would not bring violence here!'

'Get out of my way, Alexstrasza!' roared Malygos. 'I'll kill him at your feet if I must!'

'I will not allow you to kill my mate!' said Alexstrasza.

'I tried, Lord Malygos!' cried Korialstrasz. 'I tried to convince Antonidas to release them, but none of them would listen!'

'They didn't listen because you abandoned the world!' roared Malygos. 'Time and again we have stayed our hand when we should have acted! Time and again I have sought to take direct action against the atrocities of our enemies! Yet always you have said we should let the mortal races "stand on their own."

'And what are the results? We guardians are mocked or believed not to exist! The demons rampage freely! And my apprentice is dead! Why? Because the mortal races have so little regard for us that experiment on us! Like animals!' 'Malygos, I mourn for you,' said Alexstrasza, 'however-'

'You mourn?' said Malygos. 'You have done nothing but mourn! You, Alexstrasza the Ineffectual! Alexstrasza the Worthless! Alexstrasza, Bane of Quel'thalas! Burner of the Ghostlands! Murderer of Kul'tirans! I wonder if you did not enjoy your imprisonment among the orcs more than you claim! Certainly, you were slow to claim vengeance on them for their actions!'

'You go too far.' said Nozdormu.

'And you Nozdormu, how long have you gazed into the falling sands of the hourglass? Have you never wondered if perhaps the sands might be shifted for the better?!' asked Malygos. 'What have you done, save stopped me from saving my flight from decimation?! And how many other wonderful things have you refused to save?!'

'It is not my place to be Lord of Time.' said Nodormu. 'Things must happen a certain way!'

'That is the logic of stagnation!' roared Malygos. 'You would rather allow untold desolation and pretend as if it is all for the best! How dare you?!'

'Malygos you are angry and upset.' said Ysera. 'You must calm yourself!'

'No! I have contemplated too long!' roared Malygos. 'I will no longer remain on this council! You are not my family! You are not even my allies! I am leaving this council! I will protect this world, and I shall do it in my own way. Nor will I yield my guardianship to incompetent mortals when the appointed time comes. If any of you intervene, you will die by my hand.' He turned to walk away. 'Farewell. And no friendship of mine remains here so long as Krasus still draws breathe. And that will not be for much longer I assure you. He will die slowly and painfully. I have not yet decided on the method.' Then he looked Korialstrasz in the eye with a cold gaze. 'I. Will. Kill. You. Someday.'

Then he was gone in a mist of blue. Dead silence overtook them as the pillar of blue crystal cracked and shattered. As it did the other pillars began to shake. Quickly they fled out of the shrine and as they did so the roof fell inward. The shield waned, and then there were only three pillars remaining.

Malygos had rejected the dragon flights utterly.

'…Well that was a disaster.' said Nozdormu.

'His anger may calm in time.' said Ysera.

'No it will not.' said Alexstrasza. 'His flight have suffered horribly by the undead. We refused his efforts to act against them, or spur the mortals to destroy them before they could grow too great.

'We did so to lure out Archimonde and destroy him.

'Now all our plans are in ruins. We have lost our brother.'

'You don't know that.' said Ysera.

'I do.' said Alexstrasza. 'I said the same thing when Nekros Skullcrusher enslaved my children. Malygos has always been the least forgiving of us all.' She turned to Korialstrasza. 'Korialstrasz, I have lost many of my consorts in these years. I ask that you remain with the flight. For your safety. In fact, I command it.'

Korialstrasz arose, the terror of Malygos anger still on him. 'Yes, my lady.'

Alexstrasza looked across the peaks of the forgotten mountain range. 'There is a storm raging now. And we have done nothing to stop it.' She sighed. 'We must do something to make amends.'

* * *

Authors Note:

This is basically the first chapter to take an orc's perspective. And I more or less summarized the entire second half of the orc campaign in one mission. Frankly, my opinion of the orc campaign has cooled over time. At first, I liked it. But these days I regard it as a filler arc. Nothing that happens in it has any long term effect. The orcs fall right back into evil a few years later. And it doesn't really have a place in the overarching narrative of Warcraft III.

So yeah, reality ensues. As it turns out not doing anything to save your fellow dragons from a city, you help rule doesn't just get washed under the bridge.


	29. A Parting of Ways

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Parting of Ways**

The throne room of King Anastarian Sunstrider was not like those of men. In Lordaeron, the King dwelled in a great chamber, closed off from the world. Anastarian's was open to the air at the top of a high tower. There were great fountains on either side and outside a roost. On these, anything from messenger birds to dragons could perch.

It was more to Malfurion's liking. As he marched forward and saw the King's eyes he knew that this was one of great age. His eyes were young but not as young as the others of his kinds, and he was clad in flowing white robes. Over his knees was set a golden sword.

'Then you are the Archdruid whom I have heard so much about.' said Anastarian Sunstrider 'My son tells me that you believe my land will take a long time to mend.'

'I fear some of your people may not live to see it healed.' said Malfurion. That was somewhat optimistic but best to let them hope.

Anastarian met his gaze and sighed. 'I thought as much. No matter, if you believe you can heal this place, I welcome your aid.' He paused. 'Am I right in thinking you to be one of the kaldorei who long ago exiled us?'

Malfurion looked up. He remembered well the explosive argument which had come between the two. It had been an elf, much like Anastarian. He had replied to Cenarius' offer by setting fire to the trees. He'd launched a full-scale raid across the night elves. Then, having caused even further suffering, he had taken his people and sailed east.

But he could hardly say as much. 'I fear that memory changes with the telling.' said Malfurion. 'In the aftermath of the War of the Ancients, your descendants continued to use arcane magic. We had only just driven away the Legion, and many were afraid that they would return.

'Our people did not part on good terms. However, it was by their own will that yours departed Kalimdor.'

'I wonder which of our memories is the better.' mused Anastarian. 'No matter. My son, you wished to speak to me.'

'Yes,' said Kael'thas, 'I believe I have found a way to cure our people of our magical addiction. The night elves suffered a similar malady. They survived through connecting themselves to a great tree. Malfurion believes that it may be possible to connect our people to that same tree.

'I wish to have leave to speak with the night elven leader, Cenarius.'

'The borders have been made secure.' mused Anastarian. 'But to go west now seems drastic. Are you sure this will work, my son?'

'I can but try.' said Kael'thas.

'So be it.' said Anastarian. 'If you believe this is best I will not stop you. I grant you leave. Druid Malfurion, you are returning to your own land soon enough yes?'

'Indeed.' said Malfurion. 'There is much for me to do and I fear I have tarried long. However, I will leave behind many of my druids to continue the work I have begun here.'

'Then I would ask you take my son with you.' said Anastarian.

This was a great opportunity. Even if Cenarius did not allow it, Malfurion might at least be able to sew seeds. Ones' that could turn these people from arcane magic. 'It shall be as you say.'

'It would be for the best if you left with Prince Arthas' expedition.' continued Anastarian. 'He is already heading west, I am told.'

Kael stiffened at that. Malfurion wondered what it was that had brought Kael'thas and this Arthas to hate one another so. 'I shall, Father.'

'Then you had best leave at once.' said Anastarian. 'I will pray for your success.'

Kael'thas moved closer to Malfurion to teleport them, but Anastarian raised a hand. 'One more thing. I am putting my son into your hands, Druid. If any harm comes to him the vengeance of the high elves will be swift.'

'I understand.' said Malfurion.

The Prince teleported them away. Soon they were standing in the town where Malfurion had arrived. But Malfurion sensed something in the air. Some dark will which was watching.

'I must leave you for a time, young Kael.' said Malfurion 'There is something I must see to.'

'Perhaps I could assist.' said Kael'thas.

Malfurion considered the question. 'No, I must do this alone.'

And he strode from the town and into the wilderness. And wherever he walked he saw piles of corpsesburning. Even now the work of desecration the humans had been forced to was underway. Priests were saying prayers while people wept bitterly.

At last, he came to the top of a mountain covered in trees and looked out.

It was a funeral pyre of untold size. It stretched across the length and breadth of Lordaeron. Wherever Malfurion walked in the troubled land, he saw the flames flickering in the night sky. Now as he stood upon a mountain overlooking the western sea of Lordaeron, he turned his gaze north. At the uttermost end of the world, he sensed a presence looking down upon all this.

Moreover, that presence held within it many things. Anger at the thwarting of its plans. Hatred for its masters. Contempt for those who opposed it. Yet who was it whose will this land contended with?

It had a name now. The Lich King. Yet not an identity. Malfurion stood atop a mountain and set his will against the curse of Lordaeron. For a long time, he struggled against it, his mind pittrf against the corruptor of the world. Clouds darkened overhead as a northern wind chilled. Yet the power resisted him still. It still held sway over these lands, and he alone could not wrest it from him.

But he saw many things as he wrestled with the will of that power. He learned much and yet not enough. He did not know his enemy yet.

'Who causes these undead to come forth from the grave?' he asked aloud. 'Who is this dark god whose will clouds the very sun? How does his will extend across all the world and control everything—and yet nothing? The restless gaze from the high frozen throne. I see him now, veiled in blizzards of snow and ice and walls forged from horror.

'And yet he himself is a subject. In the security of distant Northrend, he bows to horrors within and without. They tear at his mind and mock him., reminding him that he is but a slave.'

He saw his answer, though he did not understand it. Shapes of a red sky over a dying world. Of green-skinned creatures. Were these the orcs Calia had spoken of?

'Very dramatic.' said a voice. 'Was that improvised or were you practicing for a play?'

'I have learned to speak in poetic fashion when leadership calls for it.' said Malfurion, turning to face the newcomer.

He was tall for a human, with long blonde hair. He went clad in simple gray armor and wore a scarlet cloud around him. His tabard likewise was crimson and on his back was a great hammer. The spirits surrounded him like moths to a flame, and all the land seemed to surround him.

Could it be?

'Who are you, human?' asked Malfurion.

'I am Prince Arthas Menethil.' said Arthas. 'I take it that you are Malfurion Stormrage.'

'I am.' said Malfurion. 'And I have contended with the will of the Lich King. I know now something of the nature of his control of this realm.'

'What control?' asked Arthas. 'His servants are destroyed or fled.'

'Not all of them.' said Malfurion. 'And his will remains within the blight. He has bent the spirits of Northrend to his will and twisted their power to corrupt the land itself. Now he is focusing that same power into Lordaeron.

'It is strange. Few unholy powers may hold such control over spirits. Unless perhaps they were once a druid or shaman themselves.'

'So the spirits of Northrend are invading the spirits of Lordaeron?' guessed Arthas.

'Rather they are trying to corrupt them.' said Malfurion. 'And I fear they have partially succeeded, though not in the way they had hoped.'

'What do you mean?' asked Arthas.

'The spirits of Lordaeron have arisen in rage.' said Malfurion. 'Their power has been summoned in anger. Thus the land suffers.'

'Why would they be angry with us?' asked Arthas.

'They are not.' said Malfurion. 'But until recently the whole of their focus has been on the destruction of their enemies. I think the Lich King sought to corrupt them with their rage into his servants.

'Yet even with the failure of that plan, they have done much harm. So long as spirits are at war, the land will suffer. Only when they are tranquil can the world flourish.' He paused. 'How is it that you came here?'

'I don't know.' admitted Arthas. 'I felt drawn to this place. I will be leaving soon, heading west.'

'That is for the best, I think.' said Malfurion. 'Our paths may converge there for a while then.' He was now sure that he had been correct.

'What do you mean?' asked Arthas.

'Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider has requested an audience with my master, Cenarius.' said Malfurion. 'I am to take him there myself. My druids will continue my work after I am gone.'

'Wonderful.' said Arthas in distaste.

Had Malfurion done something to offend him? 'This is not to your liking?'

'Prince Kael'thas and myself have hated each other for years.' said Arthas. 'We never liked each other to begin with. Our relations have cooled since then.'

'What was the cause?' asked Malfurion.

'Both of us were after the same woman.' said Arthas. 'Neither of us won.' He paused. 'Will you come down to the ships with me?'

'I will.' said Malfurion.

The two of them made their way down to the ships. As they walked Malfurion asked Arthas questions about the land in which he had dwelled.

* * *

Thing were going to hell for the Kirin Tor. Rhonin listened to Krasus as the wizard explained the situation. For a moment he was silent. He couldn't believe this. 'What do you mean you can't come back?' he asked.

'I mean what I say.' said Krasus. 'Something very important has come up and I cannot leave.'

'Krasus, do you know what is happening here?' asked Rhonin. 'King Terenas recently held a meeting of the Alliance. He made serious decisions without us.'

'He didn't invite you?' asked Krasus in surprise.

'No, he did.' said Rhonin. 'But I was badly injured working in Dalaran, and there was no clear successor. You were gone so they couldn't anyone else to send. By the time I woke up Terenas had already brought Alterac back into the gold on a technicality.'

'That does not seem a serious matter.' said Krasus.

It's the principle of the thing, Krasus.' said Rhonin. 'If the Alliance thinks they can make decisions without consulting us then we aren't an equal. Also, Quel'thalas was excluded as well.

'And if you aren't here I can't lead the expedition to Northrend. Why did you have to rush off like this?!'

'I'm sorry.' said Krasus. 'This cannot wait.'

The connection closed. Rhonin remained silent for a moment. Then he slammed his hand against the table. He drew it back and clutched it. 'Ow.'

'What's wrong?' asked Vereesa.

'Krasus has disappeared again.' said Rhonin. 'He always does this.'

'There is always a good reason for it, though.' said Vereesa.

'Whether there is or not what do I do?' asked Rhonin. 'I'm supposed to go with King Varian to Northrend? And who knows how long Krasus will be gone. We might as well rename the Six to the One.'

'Well perhaps you should look into replacing our losses.' said Vereesa. 'You need someone else in authority to assist you.'

'Who?' asked Rhonin. 'Let me think. All right, I have an idea.'

'What is it?' asked Vereesa.

'I've got to write some letters.' said Rhonin.

* * *

Malfurion Stormrage asked many questions. Most of them had to do with the landscape, and Arthas found himself describing Lordaeron as it had been. Something about this elf made him feel at ease. He spoke of the Tirisfal Glades before they had been darkened. And also of the other woods and trees.

Eventually, however, he strode ahead and disappeared into the woods on some errand. He had claimed he would be with him soon. Arthas pressed on, wondering what he was on about, as a familiar blue dragon flew into sight. She descended, and Tyrygosa once again took on an elven form. She was no longer clad for mourning. Instead, she wore brown leggings and a leather vest. Her sleeves conformed to her arms, and she nodded to him.

'Milady, you return.' said Arthas.

'Yes. I have done as you asked, Prince Arthas.' said Tyrygosa. 'Lord Malygos has sent the blue dragon flight to negotiate with the indigenous races. We've managed to get them to put aside many of their long-standing grudges and focus on fighting the undead. For now.

'However, they need someone to organize them. If you are going to move against Northrend now is a perfect time.' She drew out a book. 'I have details here.'

'Unfortunately, I will not be moving against Northrend.' said Arthas, feeling a tinge of bitterness. 'That task has been given to Varian, and even now his fleet is readying itself. I am to head west and colonize Kalimdor.'

'I see.' said Tyrygosa. 'Perhaps you could introduce me to this Varian. I will put myself at his disposal.'

'We're heading in his direction now.' said Arthas.

Soon enough they came to the docks. There they found King Varian Wrynn speaking with a soldier. As he approached, Varian looked up in surprise. 'Arthas what took you?'

'Many things.' said Arthas. 'Are all the preparations made?'

'Yes.' said Varian, before looking to Tyrygosa. 'Who is this with you?'

'This is Tyrygosa, one of the blue dragonflight.' said Arthas. 'She has come to help the Alliance in its invasion and has reason to hate the Legion. She has much information which may aid you.'

'Greetings, noble king.' said Tyrygosa, bowing.

'Then I will be glad to have her.' said Varian. 'We'll set out soon, for our ships are all loaded.'

'My own have more people coming.' said Arthas. 'I'll be here a few more days.' He looked to Muradin. 'Muradin, take care of Varian will you. I think he'll need you as much as I did.'

'Not to worry lad.' said Muradin.

At that moment Captain Marwynn arrived. With him was Captain Faldine of the Northrend colony. Arthas blinked and approached him. Marwynn bowed, looking uncommonly awkward. 'Prince Arthas.'

'Marwynn?' asked Arthas. 'What are you doing here?'

'Faldine is returning to Northrend, and I'm going with her.' said Marwynn. 'We mean to be part of the new colony.'

'She wishes to return to Northrend?' asked Arthas, surprised.

'Yes.' said Faldine. 'It's dangerous, but I have a taste for danger. And Lordaeron isn't exactly what it used to be. Besides, all the new colonists will need people who know the land.'

Marwynn sighed. 'I don't want to leave your service, but it seems our old group is falling farther and farther apart. Jaina gone west. Falric is the Highlord of the Scarlet Crusade. Now I go north.

'I've already said my goodbyes to him, of course.'

Arthas smiled and clasped his hand. 'I wish you all the best, Marwynn. I mean it. You and Falric are two soldiers better than this spoiled prince ever deserved.'

'Well you were the one who said it.' said Marwynn with a rueful smile.

Arthas looked to Faldine. 'Captain Faldine…'

'Lieutenant now. The ranks got all screwed up after we evacuated.' said Faldine. 'Now Marwynn's the captain, and I'm his subordinate.'

'You were of great service in Northrend.' said Arthas. 'I expect you to perform similar service again.'

'I'll try.' said Faldine. 'Well, we'd both best get going. Every bit helps.' And they were off.

'Yes, I know.' said Arthas. Something was wrong here. He couldn't put his finger on it. 'Varian a word.'

He took his friend to one side, and Varian looked at him in concern. 'What is it Arthas?'

'Have you spoken with Tiffin?' asked Arthas. 'And your son?'

'I… I should have.' said Varian. 'It slipped my mind with everything that has happened. With everything going on I haven't been able to think of anything else.'

'Well you had best do it soon.' said Arthas. 'I've been to Northrend, Varian. That place has a way of draining you. Of consuming everything you are and twisting you around.'

'I feel twisted already to be honest.' said Varian. 'I've only come in at the end of things. However, the things I've seen will stay with me. How did you stand it?'

'Barely.' admitted Arthas. 'Just remember what you are fighting for and don't be too aggressive. Remember you're trying to establish outposts. We'll deal with the Legion as a whole later.'

I' know, I know.' said Varian. 'Neither one of us are boys anymore.' He paused. 'Where the hell is Rhonin? He should have been here to help set things up.'

'I thought you said everything was ready.' said Arthas.

'We had an appointed departure time.' said Varian. 'Rhonin can teleport. I assumed he'd be here.'

A messenger arrived, carrying a dispatch. 'King Varian, a letter from Rhonin. And also one for Prince Arthas.' He offered them.

'Let me see it.' said Arthas, taking it. 'Let's see your first, Varian.'

Varian read it. 'Wonderful. The Kirin Tor have dropped out of the expedition.'

'You're joking.' said Arthas. 'Why?'

'Archmage Krasus has gone off into the blue and said he can't come back.' said Varian. 'Rhonin is now the only ranking wizard left. He can't go.

'Trust a wizard to abandon his post.'

'Krasus has done a great deal.' said Arthas, feeling obligated to defend him. 'And the Kirin Tor is in bad shape.'

'Everyone is in bad shape.' said Varian. 'What about your letter?'

Arthas opened it and read through it. 'Rhonin wants me to offer Jaina a position on the Six.'

'Why?' asked Varian.

'He's desperate, I guess.' said Arthas. 'Jaina was of great help during the early campaign. With most of the best wizards dead, she may well be one of the best qualified for the position.'

'Whatever the case with this news I need to go.' said Varian. 'With luck, we'll meet again and laugh about this later.'

'One can only hope.' said Arthas.

Varian offered his hand, and Arthas shook it. Then he turned to walk toward the fleet. Arthas then felt almost sure he would never see his friend again. Or at least not in the same way.

'Varian!' he called.

Varian glanced back. 'Yes?'

Arthas paused. 'Good luck.'

Varian smiled. 'You too.'

They parted ways. Arthas made his way to the ship and found the absolute last person he wanted to speak with. Prince Kael'thas was talking with the captain. As he approached the elven prince turned to him and met his gaze.

Dead silence ensued. Silence so deep that one could hear a pin drop a thousand miles away in it.

'Prince Arthas.' said Kael'thas.

'Prince Kael'thas.' said Arthas.

Silence continued. Arthas met Kael's gaze in silent challenge. The lapping of the water on the shore was deafening. All who were around shrank back beneath the intensity of the stare between them. It was as though great flames were passing between them.

'Lady Sylvanas will be joining us.' said Arthas. 'I personally requested her presence.'

'I am glad of it.' said Kael'thas. 'She is a valiant commander.'

'Good.' said Arthas.

The silence continued. Neither one was willing to turn aside their gaze first. On the contest continued. Many became afraid that the two would stand like this until their battle of wills consumed the world.

At that moment Brigitte Abbendis walked up the gangplank and slipped past the two. Looking at it, she remained silent only a moment. Then she spoke. 'Well, you two seem like you are the best of friends.' she said. 'Perhaps you could part company before you freeze the ship to splinters?'

'As the lady wishes.' said Kael'thas.

'Brigitte Abbendis I wasn't expecting you.' said Arthas.

'Lord Uther dispatched me to enter into your service.' said Brigitte. 'He wants me to make use of the skills I've learned in practice.'

'And Sally?' asked Arthas.

'Lord Uther is giving her a different training regime.' said Abbendis.

'What kind of regime?' asked Arthas.

'Healing the sick and injured.' admitted Abbendis. 'I think he felt she needed to focus on something other than retribution.' She paused. 'He was quite insistent that she not go into battle.'

'Well, that may be good for her.' mused Arthas. 'Welcome aboard.'

The expedition was set. Now all they had to do was await the coming of the last of the colonists and they would, at last, set out for Kalimdor.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

So this chapter is late. But since my late is most fanfiction writers obscenely fast I'm not going to ask for an apology. I got a bit burnt out and decided to focus on other things.

 **Edit:**

Changed a bunch of dialogue which was too similar to another work. Less poetic, more original.


	30. Alexstrasza's Bad Day

**Chapter Thirty: Alexstrasza's Bad Day**

Alexstrasza the Lifebinder had always thought of herself as a mother, and the younger races were her children. It was a mindset that naturally arose from her aspect, and it defined her, gave her strength. Yet it also brought pain, for many had died so that many others could live. For she shared an innate connection with all things that lived do that they knew her and she them at a glance. Unless she choose to conceal herself of course.

Yet there was yet much misery in this world. She grieved for all her children who suffered beneath the Legion and other darknesses. Yet she had also rejoiced as they emerged wiser and stronger from their trials.

Now she flew over the southern coast of Lordaeron towards Dalaran. Many of her children gazed up in wonder as they saw her. The sight of a dragon aspect was one few saw in their lifetimes now. Though long ago it had been far more common, during the days of friendship with the elves.

Now at last she descended towards the gates of Lordaeron, her gaze falling sadly on the blighted trees. This land had suffered greatly. But by the efforts of the true guardians of the world, ordinary everyday people who defied the darkness, it was beginning to mend.

If she was honest she could not have been more proud of them.

'You are late, Queen Alexstrasza.' said Lord Garithos 'I thought you dragon aspects prided yourselves on protecting the mortal races.' The statement was filled with simple contempt. He knew her by sight of course, all creatures knew her by sight unless she choose to conceal herself. And as he spoke the men near him looked at him in surprise.

Alexstrasza regarded the black armored captain with pity. He and his forces were camped before the gates of Lordaeron, shut out and awaiting orders. She knew him, as she knew all thing, and knew his hard life had twisted him.

But not beyond mending.

'I weep for the wounds which have been inflicted on the world, Garithos.' Alexstrasza said 'It was my desire to shield this world Sometimes lesser evils must be permitted in order-'

'No one here is interested in your fanciful excuses, Dragon Queen!' snapped Garithos 'If you are here to serve the Alliance then serve it. The least you can do is not praise yourself too highly in the presence of those who you have terrorized.'

Open hostility flared in the hearts of the men near him, and not all was directed at her. Alexstrasza realized she has never been treated in this fashion before. But she supposed it must have seemed to mortals as though she had abandoned them. 'My flight was enslaved to the Horde. It was torment to serve them, but the Demon Soul-'

'What do you want, Dragon Queen?' asked Garithos, cutting her off. 'I've said my piece and now I want to know what you are doing in our territory.'

This was something of an off day. No one had ever cut her off in the middle of a speech before. Well nor mortal at any rate. Usually they were just too awed by her very presence. But apparently everyday racism and bad tempered cynicism could counter her aura.

Best to cut to the chase. 'I need to speak with King Terenas.'

'Then you've wasted your own time as well as ours.' said Garithos 'King Terenas is not here.'

'Then who commands in his stead?' asked Alexstrasza, controlling her frustration.

'Princess Calia Menethil.' said Garithos 'And she is meeting with Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. Or so I assume. If you wish to speak with her I suggest you make an appointment.' Then he drew out a book, looked down at it and pretended to take more notice of her.

Even so she could feel his grief, twisted to malice by the tragedies of the first and second war. His family had been displaced from Stormwind and during the Second War had been slaughtered while he was defending Quel'thalas.

'I grieve for you Garithos.' said Alexstrasza 'I sense the hatred gnawing at your heart. You should set it aside. The prejudice you hold you mask your grief is devouring you.'

He looked up from his book and shut it. 'Don't presume to lecture me.'

'There were many tragedies throughout the Second War Garithos.' said Alexstrasza 'Do you think you alone lost family? That the tragedy of the second war was yours alone? Or humanities alone? The old hatreds must be allowed to die lest-'

'Spare me!' said Garithos 'If I were an elf nursing a grudge against humanity you would lament the passing of so wonderous and fair a being, and talk about what a pity it is that we hairless unspecial apes were so foolish as to not die in droves to defend them! Which we did!

'For little enough thanks, I might add.'

'You are wrong, Garithos.' said Alexstrasza 'I care for all my children. And I grieve at all the blood which is spilt without need. Humans and elves are both my charges and the dragonflights have looked out for them for endless ages.

'It was necessary that we draw back our hand and allow them to stand on their own.'

'We have always stood on our own.' snapped Garithos 'Our guardians are either incompetent, indifferent, or trying to kill us. Don't pretend as if you've been of any help.'

'Humans live only a short time. And their memory of the ancient past has faded.' said Alexstrasza 'Long ago your descendants were not apes, as some among you theorize, but a race of giants known as the vrykul. A plague struck them and many of the children they bore were born weaker, smaller, frailer.

'The King of the Vrykul commanded that these children be slaughtered. But the parents sought a way to save them. My flight transported these children to the Eastern Kingdoms and raised them until they could walk and fend for themselves.'

'The dawn of humanity was before recorded history.' noted Garithos 'Surely you must have had some other contribution to our history?'

Alexstrasza considered it. After the first human colonies had been established she'd turned to other things. After a moment she came up with something else. 'The red dragon flight was instrumental in alliance between elves and humans. From them you learned magic.'

'Which the elves gained from far more than us.' said Garithos 'And both those were thousands and thousands of years ago. My grandfathers grandfather could not have met anyone with a living memory of either. I can't confirm either of those, so for all we know you could be making them up.

'Anything else?'

Alexstrasza was troubled. Humans were so short lived. Alexstrasza tried to think of all the times she had intervened in their history. Yet she found the times were remarkably short. Oftentimes she had provided counsel to the High Elven Kings, who she'd made a point of remaining on good terms with.

A visit every hundred years or so. But that could be three or four generations for a human. And their clans had always been changing leaders. It was difficult to establish any kind of long term relationship.

What had she done for them recently?

'We drove off Deathwing in the battle of Grim Batol.' said Alexstrasza.

'Which you only did after being rescued by a human.' noted Garithos 'And given how much damage you did to us it really shouldn't be considered.'

Alexstrasza couldn't think of anything else. Human lifespans passed in a blink of an eye for her. And aside from that there was nothing she could really think of that she'd done in living memory. 'What happened with my flights was beyond my control.' Her voice was defensive.

'No it wasn't.' said Garithos 'If you had brought your flights to Stormwinds defense the First War would have been won. Easily.'

'We cannot interfere with every battle between nations.' said Alexstrasza, allowing her irritation to show. 'Our task is to defend the world from outside. Not within.'

'They were a demonically infused army of monsters that came from a demonically infused world through a demonically infused portal which was opened by a demonically infused Guardian of Tirisfal.' said Garithos 'How much more otherworldly need it get?!'

'We…' Alexstrasza realized she didn't have an answer. It had happened so quickly. One moment it was a war for one human nation, the next she had been enslaved. 'we did not think the orcs would…'

'Would what?' asked Garithos 'Leave a path of carnage behind them? Slaughter tens of thousands? What if the dark portal had opened up in Quel'thalas? Would you have been quite so inactive?'

And Alexstrasza, to her horror, realized that the answer was a resounding "no." The elves were far less numerous than humans. They could not sustain the same number of casualties and bounce back. The elves lived far longer and in better times Alexstrasza had had many friends among them. Friends of hundreds of years.

If the only remaining high elven land had come under assault she would have rushed to their aid at once. She'd been tempted to do so in the Third War and only been held back by both the plan and the knowledge that her flights were too few to make a difference.

'Your silence speaks for itself.' said Garithos 'You don't care about humanity. We are merely a convenient source of canon fodder to protect the races you do care about.

'In a thousand years my hatred could not cause as much destruction as your indifferent "love" has.'

Alexstrasza said nothing. She turned and flew away.

It was obvious that humanity had things under control. Her reception had been far colder than she had expected. And she did not have it in her heart to blame them. Obviously some kind of direct intervention was necessary. Her flights could still play the role of a lightning strike force at least.

So she flew through the air toward Quel'thalas.

She paid no heed to the people. Instead she followed the Dead Scar to Silvermoon. Eventually she landed upon the Dragon Roost near the high elven throne room where she had landed many times before. Entering she saw Anastarian reading upon his throne.

He looked up with cold courtesy. 'Queen Alexstrasza to what do I owe the honor?'

'King Anastarian.' said Alexstrasza, feeling far more awkward. 'For many years there existed a powerful friendship between dragons and high elves. I wish to rekindle it by bringing my flight to aid you in your time of need.'

Anastarian shut his book. '…Queen Alexstrasza, the last time your flights came to this forest they reduced vast stretches of land to ashes. We still have not healed from that. And though memory has faded for the humans, it has not for my people.

'I understand that what happened was against your will. But frankly, no help you could offer would be worth opening old wounds.'

'But there are still undead here, are there not?' said Alexstrasza.

'Yes, but their leader isn't impressive because he has done damage.' said Anastarian 'He is impressive because he has kept the undead army intact. Even as we speak Prince Arthas' methods of burning graveyards are in progress. In a month or two there will be almost no corpses left for them to burn.

'And even if they resurge I can call for help from the Alliance.

'I… appreciate your offer. But the war is over, Queen Alexstrasza. And you weren't there to fight it. I think you should go.'

She had been told to leave. Whatever friendship there had been with the high elves and dragons was now in tatters. 'I… I understand.'

She turned and departed.

As she flew away she considered the possibilities. Her children had rejected her. Even those she had favored. Yes, it could not be denied that the elves had been favored by Alexstrasza and the dragons. Few dragons took the forms of humans or dwarves or any other.

It was always elves.

She had failed to care for them all equally. She knew that now. And now that she thought of it humanity and the elves were not the ones most in need of her help. Humanity was at least stable and had many allies, but what of this Kingdom of Creeps?

It had sprung up too easily. Too quickly. And it fit perfectly into the designs of the Legion.

Perhaps if she appeared there she might break whatever spell their leaders had fallen under.

Thus was that she flew to Stratholme and landed before the gates. She was viewed with fear and apprehension by those around her and many forest trolls and ogres stood guard.

'Peace,' said Alexstrasza 'I do not mean you or your people harm.'

'Of that I have no doubt.' said a smooth voice.

Out of the crowd walked a Dreadlord, clad in crimson. He bowed courteously as Alexstrasza took a stance on instinct. 'Greetings Queen Alexstrasza. I am Varimathras. I was told you were coming and I have been sent to greet you.'

'Vile demon.' said Alexstrasza 'Your hold over these creatures will not continue.'

'Hold?' said Varimathras 'You overestimate me, Dragon Queen. I am not much more than King Mug'thol's messenger. Of course King Mug'thol is at present occupied negotiation with the human King. But I am certain that the knights of the Kingdom of Creeps would be only too glad to speak with one so esteemed a being as yourself.

'Indeed, perhaps you should consider joining us.'

Alexstrasza blinked at how bold he was. 'Join you?'

'Well you are no friend to the Alliance.' said Varimathras, before turning to Stratholme.

'What be going on here?!' came a cry.

Out of the crowd walked a one armed and one eyed troll. Varimathras bowed as he approached. 'Ah, Sir Zul'jin. I present you the Queen of the Dragonflights. Queen Alexstrasza.'

Alexstrasza sensed the hatred within him welling up even now. It was an inferno of rage that made her take a step back. 'Zul'jin-' she began.

'I be glad yer flight suffered during da second war.' snarled Zul'jin 'I wish it suffered more. And I be looking forward to da day when there be no more Red Dragons.'

Alexstrasza heard his words, sensed his heart and knew they were true. He would have happily killed her and all her children himself. But why? 'Is it not enough that you helped the orcs enslave my flight?'

'Of course it isn't.' scoffed Zul'jin 'You engineered my peoples destruction by da humans and elves.'

'I tried to stop them, Zul'jin.' said Alexstrasza, remembering the butchery of so many villages. 'I did stop them. They wanted to completely exterminate you.'

'What do ya be wanting?' asked Zul'jin 'A prize fer less than basic decency?'

'I…' began Alexstrasza 'I didn't… you were trying to exterminate the elves Zul'jin. Neither of you were innocent. If you had won you would have done exactly the same thing to my other children.'

'Maybe so,' said Zul'jin 'but I don't be seeing any dragon aspects taking troll form. You appear everywhere in their forms. You let dem and da humans kill us for sport! And never once have you helped us! Never!'

And then appeared someone Alexstrasza didn't know. How was that possible? It was a gnoll, taller and stronger than most of his kind. He held a flail. But she did not know him. And looking to the other gnolls she realized she did not know any of them. They were the youngest of her children and yet the connection she shared with all living things simply wasn't there.

What happened to it?

'Who is this?' asked the gnoll.

Had it even been there in the first place? Alexstrasza could not remember a single time she had interacted with or intervened with the trolls. She had stood in high places as this young race emerged and struggled to survive in a world determined to stamp them out. And she did not know any of their names.

'The guardian of all life, if ya can be believing it.' said Zul'jin.

'She's never guarded us gnolls from human raiders.' said Snarlmane.

The creep races dispersed, losing all interest. And no one in this place had even a hint of dark magic about them. There was no spell controlling these creatures. None that she could find.

'This is…' Alexstrasza paused 'what devilry is this?'

'You already know what has happened.' said Varimathras 'Your pride is simply too great to admit it. You cannot disrupt my control of these creatures because I have no control over these creatures. I did not found the Kingdom of the Creeps with spells and domination as Detheroc might have.

'No. I am simply a messenger. I carry forth King Mug'thol's will and speak on his behalf to the many creeps who the Alliance persecutes. And they hear my voice and they come. Not because I have compeled them but because they are desperate.

'These creatures have no guardian. No one watches over them. They are brutalized by human and elf and dwarf.

'All we Dreadlords did was suggest that they don't need to put up with it anymore.'

'You're not really helping them.' said Alexstrasza 'You're only using them for your own ends! You'll destroy them if you win!'

'Oh? And is that any different from you?' asked Varimathras 'Weren't you dragon aspects going to sacrifice them and all of Lordaeron and the Eastern Kingdoms to lure Lord Archimonde into a trap?'

'I…' began Alexstrasza.

'Come now. Did you truly believe you had pulled the wool over our eyes?' asked Varimathras 'We knew well that you intended to lull us into a false sense of security with the fall of Lordaeron. Why else would you have taken no action to stop us?

'Had things gone better we would have been sure to break all resistance before moving directly.'

Alexstrasza met his gaze. 'But you have failed anyway.'

'We have not failed yet.' noted Varimathras 'And if we had it would not be due to your efforts but those of the Prince of Lordaeron. And those you abandoned. Those you profess to "love."'

The mockery in his tone infuriated her. She raised a hand and flames were summoned. But Varimathras did not move. 'Go ahead Queen Alexstrasza. Strike me down here. Ensure that no species in this Kingdom ever trusts your kind again. Do it.'

She could not. With her enemy in front of her Alexstrasza could not act against him. Her anger died and only emptiness remained. Varimathras smiled. 'You have no power here Queen Alexstrasza. Your "children" hold you in contempt. The world has passed you by. And your legacy is the ruination of everything you claim to love.

'Keep up the good work.'

And he was gone, fading into green mist.

Turning she walked away. As she did so her bright red hair faded to simple brown, her fine red garments became sack cloth and her horns and ears receded. Where once there had been a magnificent and beautiful Queen, now there was only a homely middle aged human woman, rejected by all she cared about.

She felt old.

The Life Binder had been cut loose.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Okay so here we have the give-a-reason-you-suck-speech-to-Alexstrasza chapter. I actually originally planned to write this for the Mercyverse. However it ultimately couldn't be fit into the main narrative, since Alexstrasza had had nothing to do with events and her plan had basically worked.

Keep in mind I'm actually giving credit to Alexstrasza for things she had nothing to do with in canon. She wasn't involved in raising humanity by any specific documents. Nor was she involved in brooking the truce between elves and men. I merely felt that those were two events which she could have been involved in and which would make sense. After all the red dragon flight is stated to have been good friends with the High Elves. It would make sense for her to convince them to ally with the humans. Meanwhile I doubt a bunch of human children could survive in the wilds without someone looking out for them.

Of everyone who called her out though I'd say Zul'jin is by far the most justified. His race has been around since before the night elves. And as far as we know the dragons have never once tried to help them. Hell, to add insult to injury they become best friends with the elves and take on their forms.

As for how Archimonde knew the dragons were planning a trap, my assumption is that Archimonde at least guessed that the dragon aspects were planning something. Which is why he was so insistent Cenarius be killed off before the Legion invaded.


	31. New Plans

**Chapter Thirty One: New Plans**

The journey up to Stonetalon Peak had taken time. Cairne and those tauren who went with him proved so big that each one needed two wyverns to carry them. Even so they managed to make it to the top and entered into the caves. Within they found many strange creatures and ghosts. Many times in that journey they had to stop and defend themselves.

They saw many strange sights as well. Miles of natural caverns would lead in, then suddenly they would come into a throne room. Tall suits of armor stood guard around them. There was also the statue of a Priestess who asked them to return her heart. They obeyed. And finally they came into the inner sanctum.

Crossing over a bridge of magic they found a dias. And there stood a familiar figure, hooded and cloaked. 'The Prophet!' said Thrall 'So you are the Oracle. We have come as you commanded. Now what is the destiny of the Horde?'

'Your destiny, young Thrall, has in many ways already found you.' said the Prophet 'You have made allies in Kalimdor and with their help you may in time build a nation for your people.'

'And what of the demons?' asked Thrall.

'The Legion has been set back in Lordaeron.' said the Prophet 'However don't be fooled. They are mustering now new armies and within a little time they will come to finish what they began. Those who you have befriended here will be of great help, but you will need more.

'Some of those you will have to ally with you have already met.'

'The night elves of Ashenvale.' guessed Thrall.

'They are wise and ancient, young Warchief.' said Cairne 'We tauren speak of an ancient shadow which once fell over this land before the shattering of the world. The night elves repelled it. If the Oracle believes we should ally with them I should do so.'

'And what of the others?' asked Grom. 'Who else?'

'There was another who was meant to be here.' said the Prophet, face darkening. 'However she turned aside before coming here. You will have to seek her out.'

'Who is "she?"' asked Thrall.

'Jaina Proudmoore and the human refugees to Kalimdor.' said the Prophet.

'Refugees?' asked Thrall 'What is this about?'

'Much has happened while you were at sea.' said the Prophet 'Many humans have journeyed to Kalimdor to escape the coming storm. Only with their help can you hope to defeat the Legion.'

Thrall remained silent. '…Very well, I will send messengers to these humans.'

'You cannot be serious, little brother!' said Grom. 'We don't need the help of those wretches!'

'Have you heard nothing I've said?!' said the Prophet 'The Legion comes to consume all life! For the sake of the world the Alliance must join forces with the Horde!'

'Bah! We orcs are strong!' snapped Grom 'We don't need the help of humans to win our battles!'

'Grom we are already fighting the centaurs and the quillboars.' said Thrall 'I don't want to fight the humans as well.'

'The Warchief is right, Hellscream.' said Cairne 'Even without the word of the Oracle we must not fight a war on two fronts.'

So it was decided.

* * *

She wandered aimlessly through the lands. As she wandered from village to village, her vision a blur, she took note of a silver haired priestess healing the sick and injured. Once she would have been proud. But it would have been nothing but the selfrighteous posturing of one who failed her charges, her children, beyond all doubt.

What could she do now? They didn't want her help.

An idea occured to her. A human method of coping with this sort of thing. One that Korialstrasz had mentioned. Finding her way to a village she entered a building and sat down in front of a counter. A man across from her looked up from cleaning a glass. Alexstrasza snatched it out of her hands and produced a priceless golden amulet with a red gem in it. She put it on the counter.

'I don't want to see the bottom of this glass.' said Alexstrasza.

'For that you can have the entire keg.' said the barkeep.

The bartender kept her supplies. And Alexstrasza drank. She finished her glass and had it refilled before drinking it down again. And when that ran out she drank still further. And so on and so forth. Hours passed as she downed dozens upon dozens of alcohol, pint after pint being drunk down.

Far from being elated she just became more hopeless.

'I uh… I think you've had enough to drink.' said the barkeep.

'Have I had enough to intoxicate a dragon?' said Alexstrasza.

'…Possibly.' said the barkeep. 'I'm surprised you are even still alive.'

'I haven't had enough.' said Alexstrasza, feeling moderately less miserable.

'I…' the barkeep paused 'I'm going to have to cut you off.'

'You will do no such thing.' said Alexstrasz, pressing her will against his. 'You will continue to provide me with alcohol until I run out of money.' And she gave him another artifact.

'…As you wish.' said the barkeep.

So she continued. Falling deeper and deeper into her oblivion. She stared at the substance in the glass. She was beginning to feel it now. She'd heard that it was possible for mortals to die from drinking too much alcohol. Was it possible for immortals?

Why not find out?

'Um, are you okay?' asked a voice.

Alexstrasza started and looked to see a goldenhaired girl looking at her from the counter. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because um, there is a rumor going around that there is a female sorceress who has drunk enough to kill a dragon.' said the girl.

'Not enough yet.' said Alexstrasza miserably. 'Leave me alone.'

'I'm not sure I should.' said the girl 'You're obviously not in a good way.'

'That seems obvious.' noted Alexstrasza.

'Do you want to talk about it?` asked the girl.

'Why do you care?' asked Alexstrasza 'I'm no use to anyone.'

'No particular reason.' said the girl 'You're obviously in pain, and I wonder if I can help. Talking about a problem can help a lot.'

Alexstrasza saw herself so many years ago. She sighed. She doubted she'd be able to chase off this girl with anything less than fire. '…My children want nothing to do with me.'

'Why?' asked the girl.

'Because I was never there.' said Alexstrasza 'I mean, I was in the beginning, but as they got older I tried to make sure they could stand on their own. Do things for themselves. I didn't have time to help them.

'I thought that if I sheltered them from everything they'd never be able to make it without me. But they don't think I sheltered them from anything. They don't remember anything I did for them.

And I don't remember.'

'How old are they?' asked the girl. 'Various ages.' said Alexstrasza 'I have a lot of children but it doesn't matter. I failed them all.'

'But you haven't failed them yet, have you?' asked the girl.

'What?' said Alexstrasza.

'Well I mean, I don't really know the situation, but you might be able to fix things with the older ones someday.' said the girl 'And the younger ones probably still need you.

'You won't be able to help anyone by drinking yourself to death.'

Alexstrasza looked at her glass. And she realized that she wasn't at all sure what it was the races needed from her. She'd been in high spires for so long that she hardly knew anything. '…I suppose you are right. What is your name?'

'Anveena. My name is Anveena Teague.' said the girl.

She stood up, somewhat unsteadily. Drinking herself into a stupor wasn't going to fix anything. Alexstrasza couldn't help her children because she did not understand them. If she was going to understand them she would need to walk among them.

They had called her a female sorceress?

Perhaps she could play that role and serve some purpose. Yes, that was it. She would take on human form, like Korialstrasz and learn for herself what her children faced.

'Thank you, Anveena.' said Alexstrasza.

'Right,' said Anveena 'you think maybe you should go see a priest of the light?'

'No, I'm fine.' said Alexstrasza 'I just need to splash some water on my face and I'll be fine.' And she walked out the door.

* * *

Anveena looked at the bartender and the rows of empty glasses. Then she looked to the bartender. 'How much did she drink?'

'Everything.' said the bartender.

* * *

It was in Arthas' quarters, on the eve of his fleets departure that he met with Jaina. She made her report directly to him and he listened.

'The orcs leader has scaled Stonetalon Peak seeking the oracle.' said Jaina 'The rest of the Horde is launching attacks on Centaur and Quillboar villages. They are rampaging unchecked, killing at will. The tauren are helping them do it.

'More and more tauren tribes are migrating to the Hordes banner. At this rate they'll conquer most of Kalimdor in a year.'

'And what of your own efforts?' asked Arthas.

'I've been focusing on building fortified settlements.' said Jaian 'Duskwallow Marsh and Theramore Island are ours and I've established a new fort which we've named Northwatch Hold. I've also begun establishing trade relations with the quillboar and centaurs and I've had my guides start learning their language. They've offered my scouts free passage through their territory in exchange for gifts.'

'Good.' said Arthas 'What do they think of the Horde?'

'From what I gather they are in a state of panic about it.' said Jaina 'A month ago they were on the verge of conquering the tauren. Then the Horde showed up and everything turned against them. It's like what happened to us in the Second War.'

'Well then lets repeat history, shall we.' said Arthas 'Go to the centaur and quillboars and convince them to ally with eachother against a common enemy. Give gifts to their leaders and offer the friendship of the Alliance.

'If you can get them to unite against a common foe it'll slow down the Horde at least.'

'Should I join the battle?' asked Jaina 'My forces are getting restless.'

'If you have to you may do so.' said Arthas 'But I'd prefer to avoid the Alliance joining any kind of battle until I get there.'

'Right. I hate resorting to violence anyway.' said Jaina.

'Good luck.' said Arthas.

He cut the call and dressed himself. Just as he finished there was a knock on his door and he walked to open it. Abbendis stood on the other side, clad in full armor. She saluted.

'Prince Arthas, all is ready.' said Abbendis 'The fleet can leave whenever you order.'

'Good.' said Arthas.

'Do you believe Lady Proudmoore will be able to hold out?' asked Abbendis.

'Jaina is smart.' said Arthas 'And she manages to get the Alliance to make this expedition in the first place. I'm confident she can handle it. Where is Malfurion and Kael'thas?'

'They are already on their ships.' said Abbendis. 'Very well, Abbendis. Let us go.' said Arthas.

It was as they were making their way across the town square that Arthas was approached. Someone walked up to him and he looked to see a short, red haired human woman. Although she was young she was very ugly. In her hand was a staff and he clothes were those of a mage. But they were ragged and torn.

'Excuse me.' she said.

'Yes, what is it.' said Arthas.

'I wish to join the expedition to Kalimdor.' said the woman. 'Please take me into your service.'

Arthas considered the statement. 'Why?'

'I…' she paused 'I've lost everything here in Lordaeron. I want to start a new life elsewhere.'

'What skills can you offer?' asked Arthas.

'I'm a sorcerer of some skill.' said the woman 'Allow me to enter your service, Prince Arthas.' She didn't meet his gaze.

'What is your name?' asked Arthas.

'I am Alara.' she said 'Please, I've got nothing left.'

'So be it. I'll allow you to accompany me.' said Arthas 'But don't make me regret my decision.'

If she was indeed a sorceress she might be of some use. If not, who was he to deny another a second chance?

* * *

Kirrasan, Queen of the Succubi watched from a nearby clifftop. She had been lounding in the boughs of a tree, admiring the scenery when the Dragon Aspect of Life had appeared in human form. This probably meant they had changed their plans.

With a sigh she spun her axe into th air and leaped off the branch. Then she caught it and slung it over one shoulder, stretching her neck in the process. 'Well I think I've seen enough.'

She faded away into violet mist and emerged in the frozen and miserable land of northrend. More specifically Icecrown Glacier. Once it had been a snowy expanse where nothing lived. That had since changed. Villages of fel orcs now occupied the base of the Lich King's spire and many great pits had been delved in the ground.

Within these were the breeding pits.

Anetheron was looking over these when he saw her. At once he flinched and got someth distance as she spun her axe lightly round. 'Kirrasan!'

'Hello Anetheron.' said Kirrasan 'You've been keeping well. I wish I could say the same for Lord Archimonde. Tell me do you have a plan beyond staving off the inevitable counterattack of the Alliance and Horde?'

Anetheron mastered himself. 'Of course I have a plan. Even now a new army of orcs is being bred in the pits of Icecrown. We should have a new army in a few months or so.'

'A few months?' asked Kirrasan. If he could manage that, she would be impressed. 'And what about the human expedition that is coming here to wipe you out? They will be here in less than that. How do you intend to hold Drak'theron Keep?'

'We need only delay them a little while.' said Anetheron

'Really? Well that is heartening.' said Kirrasan 'You see I was rather under the impression that we were trying to win this war. Not keep it going indefinitely.'

'What makes you think a mere succubus has the right to speak to me in such a-' began Anetheron, pride mastering him.

Kirrasan brought round the flat of her axe and struck him. He was sent reeling into the snow, tumbling head over heels. She quickly leaped forward and put one high heeled boot on his throat. 'Actually, I am now your commanding officer. Lord Kil'jaden is unimpressed with your results and has sent me to take command here.'

'You?' gasped Anetheron 'A mere succubus?'

'Yes me.' said Kirrasan 'Now will you cede authority? Or shall I take off your head?' And raised her axe pointedly.

Anetheron was no fool. He was Tichondrius' second in command for a reason, after all. '…As Lord Kil'jaden commands.'

'Good.' said Kirrasan, and she stepped off him. 'I will meet with the Lich King?'

'The Lich King?' asked Anetheron, rubbing his neck. 'What interest do you have in that puppet?'

'He is the mastermind of a large part of our armies.' said Kirrasan 'I feel I should consult with him.' While I'm gone i want you to pull all the files we have on our existing forces. And also our enemies. I want to know what we're up against here.'

'As you command, Lady Kirrasan.' said Anetheron.

Kirrasan walked through the snows and as she did she saw a familiar pit lord. He was channeling the power of the void into the pits below. She wondered why.

'Mannaroth dear, how have you been?' she asked.

Mannaroth looked up and ceased his efforts. He looked tired and did not seem to tower as he usually did. 'Well enough.

'You look a bit diminished.' noted Kirrasan.

'I have been spilling a great deal of blood of late.' said Mannoroth, raising a hand to show a cut. 'My energies course through my new minions.'

'Then you've managed to retrieve those orcs you've been looking for all this time?' asked Kirrasan.

'Some of them.' said Mannoroth 'By the time I came into things most of the warriors were dead. But I've found a way to account for that and bolster their numbers.'

'How did you manage that?' asked Kirrasan.

'I have been of some small assistance in that regard.' said a voice.

Kirrasan looked up to see a hunched figure cloaked all in black. He held a staff with a skull on top of it and walked forward. He radiated darkness and his eyes were shining red.

'…I have no idea who you are.' admitted Kirrasan. She did of course. This seemed to disappoint and annoy him. 'I was instumental in the corruption of Draenor.'

'I wasn't involved in that campaign.' said Kirrasan. 'Now if you'll excuse me I have to speak with Ner'zhul. Now there is a powerful warlock whose name is known far and wide.'

And she disappeared before Gul'dan could say anything. What she did hear was a shriek of fury as she ascended the stairs of Icecrown. Kirrasan smiled.

* * *

Sally Whitemane finished her rounds. She had healed many sick and injured. She had said prayers for other. She had spoken a sermon. And as she came before Lord Uther she was ill at ease.

'Yes las, what is it?' asked Uther.

'Lord Uther I should not be here.' said Sally.

'Why is that?' asked Uther.

'Healing the sick and injured is work suited for less powerful priests.' said Sally 'I could have slain whole legions of undead while I was here.'

'But there aren't any legions of undead to slay in Lordaeron.' noted Uther 'And why should one of greater power be unfit to aid others?'

Sally almost howled in frustration, but she checked herself. 'I am far stronger than most. I should be at the front of the battle, driving the undead before me! Laying waste to all who oppose the light! The forces of wickedness must not be allowed to gain a foothold!

Why did you deny my request to go north! Or even west! There I might serve the light in rooting out evil?! Here my talents are wasted!'

Uther sighed. 'What do you believe evil is, Sally?'

'All those who oppose the light.' said Sally.

'So if I were to kill a three month year old with the power of light that would be good?' asked Uther.

Sally considered it. It was a difficult question. She decided she did not have enough information. '…Has this child succumbed to the fel corruptions?'

Uther put his hands over his eyes. 'Should I even have to answer that?'

'Well that which is corrupted must be destroyed.' said Sally 'Lest it corrupt other things.'

'No Whitemane.' said Uther 'The fel corruptions have not seized this child. Is it right?'

'…Well if the light says it is right it is.' decided Sally.

'The light has not officially endorsed this killing.' said Uther.

'But you used the light to kill them.' said Sally.

'The light does not abandon people simply because they deviate from its will.' said Uther 'It stays with us so long as there is hope of our redemption. In this situation I am using the gift it gave me to kill a child who has done nothing wrong.

'Does this justify my actions?'

Sally thought long and hard. Very hard. Finally she came up with a tenative answer. '…No?' Was this a trick question?

'Exactly. To use the light to commit evil is quite possible.' said Uther 'It is an abuse of your highest privilege. Doing so will cause your connection to the light to wane over time. But wicked men may still wield it for a time.

'For all things are part of the light.'

'What about orcs?' asked Sally.

Uther considered the question. 'Orcs are not beyond the light. They merely spurn it.' He did not seem entirely sure of his answer. 'Many people believe that there are two great forces in the universe of equal power. Good and evil and from these things all things come. But I do not. I believe that all things ultimately descend from good and that evil is merely willful defiance of that ultimate good.

'Nothing is evil to begin with. Not even demons I suppose.'

'But if that is the case,' said Sally 'why are we better? Why are we the chosen of the light?'

'Because we listen to it.' said Uther 'The elves are too concerned with magical power. The trolls are too savage. The dwarves have a connection similar to our own but it is a different sort.'

'But if orcs are not innately evil,' said Sally 'then based on that an orc raised properly would prove just as good as a human.'

'No.' said Uther matter of factly. 'what possible chain of reasoning could lead to that conclusion? They're orcs. Their entire race gave themselves to demons. It would take far more than good intentions and a vague concept of honor to redeem such a vile species.'

'Right yes.' said Sally 'You are right of course. I don't know what came over me.' She paused. 'I must return to my rounds.'

As she walked away Sally reflected that Lord Uther was very wise.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

I would just like to point out that Uther kind of has a point. Blizzard keeps beating us over the head with the idea that the orcs are good. But they have sabotaged their own aesop. Warlords of Draenor proves that the orcs would have been genocidal monsters even without demonic corruptions. And the Horde are always the aggressors in every Alliance and Horde conflict. Hell, they aren't even honorable. They routinely use ruthless methods that are the exact opposite of their supposed ideals. Pragmatic, cowardly and altogether vile.

In essence the orcs are honorable good guys. Except when it isn't convenient for them. So they aren't honorable at all. Someone who is only good when it benefits them is pragmatic at best.

Which I'm not happy about. I feel bad for people who played Horde because they wanted to play a monster race which wasn't always chaotic evil and then were forced to become always chaotic evil by Blizzards terrible writing.


	32. Negotiations

**Chapter Thirtytwo: Negotiations**

It was the great hall of the Quillboar Leader. Jaina Proudmoore entered with only a few guards and came before the seat of her. She was small for a quillboar, and wore violet robes. Yet her eyes were keen and her three fingered hands were clasped before her face.

Jaina bowed politely. 'Charlga Razorflank, I am honored you could meet with me.'

Charlga remained silent for a moment. 'Your people are strange to us, Jaina Proudmoore. But you have not ravaged our villages as the orcs have. Thus I will listen to whatever you have to say.'

'Thank you. Actually it is about the orcs that I wish to speak to you.' said Jaina 'No doubt you are aware of their alliance with the tauren?'

'I am. Before the brutes did not know the land.' said Charlga 'But now they are guided and the tauren are gathering in great strength under them. You suggest an alliance?'

'I do. My people fought these orcs long ago.' said Jaia 'They came upon us in great numbers and no one nation could stand against them. So it was that the many nations joined together to fight them off.

'We gained victory and the orcs were forced to flee.' A simplified account, but it would do for now.

'I have already united the Quillboar.' said Charlga 'All heed my voice.'

'But what of the centaur?' asked Jaina.

'The centaur?' asked Charlga 'They are vile creatures who raid our villages.'

'But they are threatened now by the orcs just as you are.' noted Jaina 'They go swiftly while you go slowly. If you unite you could be stronger than ever. Strong enough to defeat the Horde. Strong enough to take back the lands they have stolen from you.'

Chalrga considered it. '…This may be true. But the centaur are not as one people, as we are. Nor are they at peace with eachother, as the tauren are. They fight with one another as much as with us.'

'But now they are all threatened aren't they?' asked Jaina 'Many centaur villages from all clans have fallen to the Horde. They may be more open to uniting.'

'You speak with wisdom, Lady Proudmoore.' said Charlga 'I will call for a meeting. Will you bring your forces to our aid? If the centaur see we have your aid it will make us seem stronger?'

Jaina considered it. It couldn't hurt to make a show of force. 'I will take with me my soldiers. I will come.'

'So be it.' said Charlga 'A meeting shall be called on neutral ground. As a show of good faith I will give you maps.'

* * *

When the meeting was over Jaina returned to Theramore. She she was approached by a short haired soldier clad in white armor. She bowed. 'Lady Proudmoore I'm glad you came.'

'What is it, Loreena?' asked Jaina 'What happened?'

'There is a messenger here for you.' said Loreena.

'From who?' asked Jaina.

'From the Horde, my lady.' said Loreena 'The orcs who seized Kul'tiran ships have sent a messenger to us. We almost shot him, but he came under flag of parley.'

'Let me see him.' said Jaina.

The orc was an older one. He wore a neckpiece which hid the bottom of his mouth. His hair was white and his eyes were dark. Like one who has seen terrible things. 'I am told you have a message for me.' said Jaina 'Who are you and what is it you want?'

'I am Varok Saurfang of the Horde.' said Varok 'I have been dispatched by my Warchief, Thrall. He wishes to make an alliance with you against the Legion.'

'An alliance?' asked Jaina 'Why now?' This was strange

'He has come from the Oracle of Stonetalon Peak, who brought both our peoples to this land.' said Varok 'He believes that the destinies of both our peoples lies in uniting against our common enemy.'

'Why did your people come to this land?' asked Jaina.

'We desired to found a new nation without the sins of the past haunting us.' said Saurfang.

'And your building it on other peoples lands.' noted Jaina.

'The Centaur and Quillboar attacked us as soon as we landed.' said Saurfang 'We defended ourselves. And when we befriended the tauren we aided them in fighting off their enemies. Did you not do the same during the First and Second Wars?'

'Fair enough.' conceded Jaina.

'Will you have peace with us?' asked Saurfang.

It was an ultimatum and Jaina didn't like ultimatums. But she herself had considered going to Stonetalon Peak. Until Arthas had talked her out of it. Now it seemed the Oracle was the prophet, if the orcs were to be believed. '…I must have time to consider this question. I cannot make it in haste.'

'Do not take to long.' said Saurfang 'Many among the Horde do not like this counsel and may act rashly.'

It sounded like a threat but it was actually a statement of fact. Or so Jaina suspected. 'Allow me to offer you and your warriors hospitality until such a time as I may answer.'

'My thanks.' said Saurfang.

Jaina ordered quarters prepared. Then she retreated to her private chambers. There she washed her face and finally walked out to the balcony to look over the city. It was still under construction. The buildings were still being erected but she had gone to mucb trouble.

When it was finished Theramore would be a magnificent sight. Her tower had been the first thing built. She leaned against the railing and felt the sea breeze on her face. As she did so a raven descended and transformed into the prophet.

'Greetings young sorceress.' said the prophet 'Why was it you turned aside?'

The statement, said as a father questioning an errant child, annoyed Jaina. 'Turned aside? I wasn't aware I was supposed to be going anywhere. All you said was to travel west and I did that. It isn't as though you left me any instructions as to what to do when I got here.'

The prophet seemed to take the point. 'Whatever the case you must make common cause with the Horde if you are to stand against the Legion. The future depends on this alliance.'

Once Jaina might have listened. The news that Lordaeron had not fallen, however, had shaken her. It had survived and Master Antonidas was dead. What if she had been there?

'Why?' asked Jaina. 'Why does the future depend on an alliance with the Horde? Why can't I make an alliance with the Quillboars and Centaur?'

The prophet remained silent for a moment. '…There are possible futures where they might happen. But in such futures the orcs are completely exterminated.'

'I don't see the problem.' admitted Jaina, though she was lying.

'Do they not have a right to life as anyone else?' asked the prophet, voice irritated.

'Sure, but not at my expense.' said Jaina 'If I have to choose between humanity and the Horde I'll pick humanity.'

'You don't have to.' said the prophet 'The Horde is not as it once was. It saved the tauren from the brink of oblivion. And it will not exterminate the Centaur and Quillboars. They will survive. As will humanity. Their desire is to create a new future for their people, not destroy the future of others.'

'Right because I'm sure the quillboars and centaurs will just instantly pack up and go home because I tell them to.' noted Jaina 'And I'm sure the Horde will leave them alone.

'Do you know how I colonized Theramore Prophet?'

The prophet remained silent. 'Yes.'

'Tell me.' said Jaina 'Say to my face how I colonized Theramore.'

'You destroyed the murloc villages completely.' said the prophet 'You drove them from the land and into the sea. There are only a very few survivors.'

'Right.' said Jaina 'So maybe the Horde just wants to make a new homeland for itself. That land is occupied. You can see the future, prophet? How exactly does the Horde make room?'

The prophet seemed reluctant to speak. 'They conquer it. They kill manycentaurs and quillboars. They slaughter many harpys. However they will survive and in time their population will rebound.'

'And humanity?' asked Jaina, now not trusting him at all.

If he was reluctant to answer before, now he seemed almost guilty. '…There will be further wars with the Horde, as there always have been wars. There will be atrocities but all of the races will survive. But the union between the Alliance and Horde will be a crucial step in rehabilitating the Horde.'

Oh that was wonderful really. Jaina decided to cut straight to the point. 'Why should I care about reabilitating the Horde exactly?' It sounded incredibly callous to her and she almost took it back.

This question seemed to annoy the prophet. 'Did you not feel pity for them when they were enslaved?'

'Sure, but I was a child back then.' said Jaina 'The first thing the Horde did after getting loose was start burning villages again.'

'That was the Blackrock Clan.' said the prophet 'These are a different sort.'

'Because they're burning quillboar and centaur villages instead of human ones?' asked Jaina.

'The races will survive.' said the prophet, almost as a mantra.'

It suddenly dawned on Jaina that she was in the presence of a complete sociopath. And she'd been following his orders. 'That's why you demanded King Terenas leave for Kalimdor. Because it would ensure more humans survived. It didn't matter at all to you if thousands of innocent people, tens of thousands, were murdered. All you cared about was the survival of the races.

'It was a pure mathematical equation. Morality had nothing to do with it.

'You don't care about the people of Azeroth at all. You care about the races. As long as none of the races go extinct you don't care how many of them die.

'Who are you really? You certaintly aren't human.'

The prophet flinched at those words. Then he looked down. 'I failed the world once before. I do not have the luxury of letting my personal feelings get in the way. I am Medivh. The Last Guardian.'

'You aren't a guardian.' said Jaina 'A guardian protects people. He doesn't convince their protectors to abandon them to the wolves.' She paused. 'I can't make peace with the Horde simply because you told me to. My allies trust me. And I will not betray them.'

'Then you risk the doom of us all.' said the prophet.

His doomsaying had gotten on her nerves. So Jaina looked him in the eye. 'Choke on it.'

And she teleported away.

* * *

Later she met with Varok Saurfang. The orc eyed here carefully as she sat down before him. 'Varok Saurfang you have offered peace between the Alliance and Horde. But you make war on our allies even now.'

'Allies?' asked Saurfang.

'The centaur and quillboar are friends of the Alliance and your warriors are working to throw them from the land.' said Jaina 'I cannot in good conscience accept this offer without their consent. So you will have to speak with them on neutral ground.

'If you can convince them to make peace with you, so be it. If not then I will stand with my allies.'

Saurfang regarded her carefully. '…I will consult my Warchief in this matter.'

'Good. I don't desire war between our peoples.' said Jaina 'However I have obligations to fullfill.'

'I understand.' said Saurfang. 'I will leave at once.'

* * *

Days later Saurfang returned on wolfback. He dismounted and approached Thrall.

'What news, Saurfang?' asked Thrall. 'What was their answer?'

'The humans have refused us.' said Saurfang 'They claim that they have allied with the centaur and quillboars and will not have peace unless peace is made with their allies.'

'An honorable choice, if foolish.' said Cairne 'The centaur are not known for their loyalty to any save themselves.'

'Even so it puts us in a difficult position.' noted Thrall 'The prophet has bidden us to have peace with the humans. But we have never had talent for negotiation as they do.'

'There is a chance yet, young Warchief.' said Cairne 'There is a place in this land which is sacred. There all violence is forbidden and all races may trade and speak freely. If we go to this place we may well have a meeting with the others.'

'Can you convince them, Cairne?' asked Thrall. 'I may certaintly try.' said Cairne.

* * *

They were the peace stones.

It was a set of standing stones, enscribed with glowing rubes. They had been set in place by the dragon aspects long ago. They were a place where violence was forbidden. And none since their raising had ever dared shed blood near them. The very stones of that place refused it.

Here the quillboar and centaur had met. And Jaina Proudmoore observed as they came together beneath the stones gaze.

'Chieftains of the quillboar. Khans of the Centaur.' said Charlga 'We have gathered in this place to answer the threat which marches against us all. The orcish horde is rampaging unchecked against us and we must unite against them or we will fall.'

'We will not fall! We are strong!' said a centaur chieftain of great power named Shaka. 'We will crush these greenskins and claim this land for ourselves!' 'So have said many!' said Charlga 'Yet none have succeeded. Yet I ask you, if we unite and destroy the orcs what then? To do this we must also destroy our old enemies the tauren. If we destroy all of them then we will have emptied much of Kalimdor.

There will be room for all to expand into and all may share the fruits of our victory.'

'What she says is true.' said an older centaur. 'If we all unite together none could stand against us. We could wash over the Horde and destroy them utterly. And if we are victorious there? There are other lands we might conquer.

'I say we do this and decide the leadership later.'

At that moment another group entered. The tauren came and with them were the orcs. A great white haired tauren marched forward and planted his halberd in the ground. Behind him a large orc with long black hair stood, a great hammer in hand. He looked at Jaina and for a moment looked shocked. Then he turned away.

'Hold where you are.' said Cairne 'We have our own piece to speak.'

'Cairne Bloodhoof.' hissed Shaka 'I'm surprised you haven't keeled over by now.'

'The courtesy of centaurs is no surprise to me, Shaka.' said Cairne 'Yet I will be heard here, in this place.'

'He is right.' said Charlga 'Let the chieftain speak.'

'Hear me.' said Cairne 'We tauren do not seek conquest over anyone. We do not desire to rule over other races or to wipe them out. Our hope is to be left in peace to tend our herds without fear of raids. Yet we have been assailed by the centaur many times and the quillboar have joined them.

'Our friends the orcs have come to our aid. Like us they seek only a land to call their own to live in freely. There has been much blood between us in this war. Let us end it now, before any more lives are lost.'

'You speak this way because you are afraid, Bloodhoof!' cried Shaka 'We are the centaur! We fear neither totem nor halberd and all who stand before us are ridden down! Now we have made an alliance which Cenarius himself shall cower at! We will crush you and all who stand with you!'

'Have a care, Shaka.' said Cairne 'You centaur have judged yourself stronger than you were once. You may have done so again. Before you faced scattered tribes of tauren. Now we are united and have bold allies to aid us.

'We will not be easy prey. And should you gain victory it shall be at a cost greater than you like.' 'We quillboar remember well the atrocities of the orcs.' said Charlga 'We will not now turn away from vengeance when it is within our grasp.'

'Then you will condemn many innocent lives to death.' said Cairne 'And you shall be the aggressor. Further blood shall not be spent on our part.'

Jaina stepped forward. 'If I may. These matters bear some consideration. I would ask to speak with my allies away from prying ears.'

There was silence for a moment. Then Cairen nodded. 'It shall be as you say.'

He and his warriors withdrew beyond the stones. Jaina looked to them. 'We should accept a ceasefire. At least temporarily.'

'Why?' asked Shaka.

'We have an alliance yes, but your peoples have never fought together.' said Jaina 'If we have time we can train your warriors to work together and cover for eachothers weaknesses. Thus you will be all the stronger when you face the Horde.'

'Proudmoore speaks rightly.' said Charlga 'We will grow stronger in time. And in that same time the Horde may divide and weaken. Yet how long should we wait?'

'A month.' said Jaina 'Give me a month and we will be far stronger.'

'Waiting is against my nature.' said Shaka 'We could crush them now.'

'But if you hope to conquer the world you must be strong enough not just to defeat the orcs, but to defeat everyone else, Shaka.' said Charlga 'It would behoove you to have some patience.'

Shaka looked to the others. Then he fell silent. 'So be it.'

'Call them back.' said Charlga.

Cairne and the Warchief came forward. Jaina walked forward to meet them. 'We will agree to a ceasefire of one month. After that time, if further negotiations have not born fruit, war will resume.'

'So be it.' said the Warchief 'I am Thrall. Warchief of the Horde. My warriors will not seek battle in that time.'

* * *

Medivh and his guests watched all of this with growing despair. He saw the futures which could come from this. And he knew that may were terrible beyond measure. '…This cannot be. This must not be. If things go on like this the entire continent will be ripped apart by war.

'We must do something.'

'We might intercede and try to make peace.' said Ysera.

'No, that will delay things at best.' said Korialstrasza 'The quillboars, centaur and orcs are all warlike. They won't make peace if they think they have a chance of crushing the other. Thrall might be convinced, but he would be pressured by his people.'

'If the Legion attacks these grievances will quickly be forgotten.' noted Ysera.

'But the Legion won't attack.' said the prophet 'Not while it thinks it has the time to gather strength. They are on the defensive now. They will stay that way until they are confident of victory.'

'Then let us make them think they do not have the time.' said Korialstrasz. 'The Legion feared you, Medivh. Send forth a challenge. Make them think that you are strong and only becoming more powerful as time passes.

'If they believe you are the master of all these races then they will act too quickly.'

'To move into the open is a dangerous move, Korialstrasz.' noted Nozdormu.

'He is right. The situation has escalated.' said Medivh. 'We must have a common enemy for them to unite against or all is lost.' He sighed. 'So be it. This began with my sending of a vision to the Warlock Gul'dan. It is only fitting that it end with it.'

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

And here we have the first chapter revolving around Jaina. Not much to say. The prophet was never exactly diplomatic. He basically walked into peoples kingdoms and started throwing his weight around. And the future clearly shows that his actions were disastrous for Jaina's expedition. This makes him either someone concerned only with the far future who is willing to sacrifice thousands of people for a hypothetical better future, evil, or an idiot.

My interpretation is that he wanted to redeem the orcs while keeping the alliance alive.


	33. Plans Gone Astray

**Chapter Thirty-three: Plans gone Astray**

The sun was veiled by a whif of cloud and the sea breeze kept things cool as Arthas leaned against the rail. The sea stretched out into the distance and he felt himself relaxing. There had been little to do except relax.

Eventually he became aware of Abbendis leaning next to him. She was very near and was looking at him. There was silence between them for a long time as he sought to break it. 'Abbendis if you were going to create a perfect world with free will how would you do it?'

'I'm not sure I understand, Prince Arthas.' said Abbendis.

'Humor me.' said Arthas.

'I… I don't think that is possible.' said Abbendis 'Lord Uther taught me that free will must involve the ability to make a wrong choice. If you can't make a wrong choice what is the point? We would just be mindless automatons.

'The ability to ruin the world around us is what makes us people.'

'Not necessarily.' said Arthas 'You could create a perfect world where people could make wrong choices. But where those choices are totally ineffectual. People who steal always get caught. Whenever someone tries to destroy something, it always survives and is fully restored within a few hours.'

'So a world where people could make wrong choices which are meaningless?' said Abbendis.

'Yes, that's what I was thinking.' said Arthas.

'It sounds almost worse.' said a third voice.

Arthas looked up to see that sorceress from before. She'd spent much time telling stories of ancient past deeds. Many of them were of far away places and races Arthas had never heard of. 'What do you mean, Alara?' he asked.

'Well if wrong actions never had any consequences that lasted they would lose all meaning.' said Alara 'No one would think any worse of someone who made wrong choices. Nor would anyone who made them have any cause for guilty.

'What you are suggesting might not result in physical destruction. But it could be disastrous to the moral character of humanity. Crimes would no longer be something horrible but a charming quirk.

'The result would be that good and evil would lose all meaning.'

'Assuming people kept up at it.' said Arthas 'If every time someone tried to do something bad it ended in disaster for them they'd quit sooner or later.'

'Would they?' asked Alara 'Have you ever been told that something is impossible young Prince? That you should simply stop wasting your time and follow directives? Did that stop you?'

'A fair point.' said Arthas 'But I wasn't attempting the same thing over an indefinite period of time.'

'Perhaps not.' said Alara 'But surely if you continue to attempt it for years and years you would want to eventually see some results? Wouldn't you?'

'Yes.' said Arthas.

'Exactly. People want their actions to have consequences, whether they know it or not.' said Alara 'A world where only good deeds could effect the world might allow free will. But it would still take away the rights of those who dwelled within it.'

'Yes but the people who are doing wrong aren't just making it worse for themselves.' said Abbendis 'They are making it worse for everyone else as well. Humans built jails and gallows to deal with that kind of thing for a reason.

'You can't just let people get away with that.'

'What you are suggesting is that the divine forces which created this and every other world punish every sin instantly.' said Alara 'They might do that. But there may be an inherent virtue to letting mortals sort their own affairs out.'

'Think of all the great cities and wonderous discoveries which your race has made?

Could you take the same pride in them if they had all been given to you with no effort on your part?'

'Yes but surely the more powerful have an obligation to aid the less powerful?' said Arthas 'That is the basis for the knights code.'

'A King does not arrest every criminal himself.' said Alara 'Nor does he preside over every trial. But it is still the Kings justice when a man is arrested and tried.'

'Well yes.' said Arthas 'But the King set in motion the laws. And he must appoint those who enforce them. If he does not then he is irresponsible.'

'I do not think it fair to compare gods to kings.' said Alara 'A King is a secular power. A god must do more than enforce. They must inspire. The mortal races are more to a god than merely subjects, they are children to be guided and let to stand on their own.'

'Or fall without defense.' noted Abbendis.

Alara sighed. 'No parent is perfect. They get set in their ways and so wrapped up in their own plans for their children that they forget about them. And all of a sudden they find themselves facing grownups with nothing but harsh words and resentment for them.

'And they go into exile.'

'Is that from personal experience?' asked Arthas.

'Yes.' said Alara 'Think about it this way. When King Terenas first assigned you a mission he didn't hover over your shoulder telling you what to do, did he?'

'No.' said Arthas.

'Would you have preferred it if he had?' asked Alara.

'No.' admitted Arthas 'But I would resent it if he stopped responding to my letters, locked himself in his room and refused to command while Lordaeron fell around him. A leader who acts in such a fashion should be replaced.'

'You resent him, don't you?' asked Alara.

'…Yes.' admitted Arthas 'I'm surprised you knew.'

'I've seen children who resent their parents before.' said Alara 'What is the reason for yours?'

It was easy talking to her for some reason. 'He has always favored Varian.' admitted Arthas 'When Varian first arrived in Lordaeron he was already trained in swordplay, while I hadn't even begun mine. He'd been taught statecraft. Father hadn't done anything like that for me. I spent my entire childhood playing catch up to Varian, while Father poured all his attention into grooming him.'

'He was destined to be King of Stormwind at a young age.' said Alara 'Perhaps King Terenas felt he needed the guidance more.'

'He didn't give me any guidance before Varian got here!' said Arthas 'I was just a child! Do you know that I had to beg the ambassador of Khaz Modan to train me in swordfighting because Father couldn't be bothered to set aside someone to teach me?

'I've always been in his shadow. And now that I'm out of it Father is leaving me out of the loop.'

'Ah so it's the mission you dislike.' said Alara.

'I should be going to Northrend.' said Arthas 'I should be in command. I know the ground. I have more experience. I'm the better soldier and leader. But light forbid that the King of Stormwind should play second fiddle to anyone.

'This mission is beneath me.'

'Is it?' asked Alara 'A King must be more than a warleader. He must know how to make the best use of short provisions. To build houses instead of tearing them down. To create. Not just destroy. Varian has had to rebuild Stormwind. You have destroyed many armies. But when have you been assigned to build anything?'

Arthas considered the question. 'Never.'

'Well then it seems to me you may well learn something from this experience.' said Alara.

At that moment a soldier approached. 'Prince Arthas, we're coming up on a set of islands which aren't on any of our maps.'

'What?' said Arthas. 'Get me my spyglass.'

Making his way to the prow he peered through his spyglass and saw a series of islands. There were many colorful trees upon it. And there were also huge sets of ancient stonework. 'There look to be ruins there.' said Arthas 'Take us ashore. We may be able to set up a colony there.'

* * *

Varian Wrynn had not been looking forward to this conversation. But Arthas had been right. He should have called earlier. He'd just been scared to.

'You're going to another continent?' asked Tiffin 'You said you'd be back after you secured Lordaeron?'

'Tiffin I'm sorry.' said Varian 'But this is important. The fate of the entire world could rest on this. It's bigger than Stormwind.'

'Stormwind is falling apart, Varian.' said Tiffin 'Aiden has been opening all kinds of negotiations on your behalf. He's made a pact with the gnolls.'

'What?' said Varian 'Why?'

'He promised them a share of the land in Stormwind in exchange for their services in war.' said Tiffin.

'That land belongs to the people of Stormwind!' said Varian.

'Aiden regards it as belonging to the King.' said Tiffin 'And he's acting in your stead. He says that can keep all the lands they hold militarily for their own use.'

'You said he went home.' said Varian.

'I thought he did.' said Tiffin 'But he was only organizing things. Right now he's leading an army of gnolls and militia into Darkshire to start a campaign against the undead and worgen in that region.'

'Tiffin that isn't necessarily a bad thing.' said Varian 'Darkshire needs all the help it can get.'

'He's using gnolls Varian!' said Tiffin 'And there are town criers everywhere talking about his great deeds and magnificent benevolence!

'Aiden is making a powerplay. You know that he always thought he should have the throne.'

'Alright, let me think.' said Varian raising a hand and turning away. After a long moment he considered the matter. Then he turned back. 'Talk to Bolvar. Tell him to shut those town criers up and have them talk about the victories in Lordaeron and the demonic invasion. Then rally a militia to guard against the possibility of gnoll attacks. Say it it a precaution against gnoll treachery.' He paused. 'How did Aiden even manage to subjugate the gnolls?'

'He and the gnoll leader, Hogger, apparently worked together during the Second War.' said Tiffin 'Back when Aiden led the resistance against the Horde when most people left.'

'Okay. I'll get in contact with King Terenas.' said Varian ;Lordaeron is secure maybe I can get some outside help to make sure Aiden doesn't pull anything. Perhaps some men from the Scarlet Crusade could help.'

'Just get back as soon as possible Varian.' said Tiffin 'Stormwind needs you, now more than ever.'

'I know, Tiffin.' said Varian 'Unfortunately a lot of things need me right now.'

Varian was needed at home. And he was needed far afield. He was needed everywhere and he could only be in one place at a time.

* * *

Beneath a high ceiling there was a round table. All the demonic overlords were all sitting around it. Well, Anetheron, Kazzak and Kirrasan were sitting. Mannoroth was too tall to sit down and so was instead lying down on his belly.

Kirrasan looked through her documents. 'Well I had a chat with Ner'zhul and we worked out a few issues. With that out of the way I thought we might discuss our new plans for the world.

Mannoroth, Mannoroth how are your experiments going?'

'Well enough.' said Mannoroth 'I have amassed a great army with a bit of… creativity. With a few more months we will have an army that is larger still.'

'Well that is wonderful.' said Kirrasan 'Unfortunately I have my doubts that even this will do much good, what with all of Azeroth mustering against us.'

'Are you suggesting that we give up?' asked Anetheron.

'No, no, just adjust our strategy a bit.' said Kirrasan 'Ner'zhul and I have already made plans to deal with half the world. Now all we have to do is deal with the other half. What is Lord Archimonde's status?'

'Lord Archimonde has stabilized.' said Kazzak 'However it will be a long time before he has returned to his former power.'

'Well that is sad.' said Kirrasan 'My sincerest condolences. Now what shall we have for dinner?'

'We Nathrezim usually feast on the souls of the innocent.' said Anetheron.

'I am well aware.' said Kirrasan 'I was thinking of something a bit more traditional.'

And then there was a flash. The image of a man clad in flowing brown robes stood before them. In his hand was a staff and he radiated power. Kirrasan sighed.

'Hail, mighty Lord of the Burning Legion.' said the man 'I am Medivh, the Last Guardian.'

'Medivh?!' said Anetheron 'Impossible, he was slain!'  
'Death is an obstacle I overcame long ago, mighty Lord.' said Medivh.

Kirrsan yawned. 'Are you here to threaten us?'

'No. I have come to reveal the depths of your folly.' said Medivh, before motioning with a staff. Before them now appeared images of orcs and humans and centaurs and night elves and many other races meeting together without violence. 'Behold the land of Kalimdor, where even now my lordship over this realm is being made. The Alliance and Horde have united by my will, the night elves you so fear will soon join them. As will the entire world.

'So bring forth all your vaunted armies! They cannot hope to stand against the might of my world! Soon I will create a power greater even than the Legion, made under my direction!'

And he was gone.

'…So Medivh has been working against us this entire time?' said Anetheron 'This explains much.'

'Our situation gets worse still.' said Kazzak.

'Very cute.' said Kirrasan 'You think he's serious.'

'Have you not been paying attention?' asked Anetheron 'He is uniting the mortal races!'

'No he's not.' said Kirrasan 'Mortal races don't put aside their differences all that easily. He's deliberately trying to provoke us to force them into an enemy mine. Medivh is hoping to make the our attempt to stop the mortal races from uniting the means by which they unite.'

Give them a month or two and Kalimdor will be in a massive civil war.'

'So we wait?' asked Mannoroth.

'No.' said Kirrasan 'We spring the trap.'

'Why?' asked Anetheron.

'Because this plays into my plans perfectly.' said Kirrasan. 'A wise general does not win battles on the battlefield. He wins them before they have even begun.'

'Would you share this plan with us?' asked Anetheron.

'Let us just say that the record will show Medivh as but our servant, despite his pretensions.' said Kirrasan 'Now whose up for pandaren noodles? Flavored with souls of course. I'm a very talented cook.'

* * *

Later after an excellent meal Kirrasan approached Lord Kazzak. The demonlord was standing on a ledge overlooking the pits of Icecrown. His great sword was planted before him and his face was grim.

Kirrasan stood by him. 'Lord Kazzak, why did you lie about Archimonde's condition?'

Kazzak looked down in surprise. 'Because the Legion has become a nest of vipers. If they learned that he was dying they might try to finish the job.'

'We cannot keep this deception up forever.' said Kirrasan 'Sooner or later they will learn. We must solidify our hold over Azeroth before that happens.'

'There must be some way to save him.' said Kazzak 'Some power which can burn away the light that is consuming him.'

Then, suddenly, there was a flash. And the two were looking upon the utter oblivion of the void. And into this void came a figure that neither had seen but which all beings that lived knew. Kazzak fell to his knees. 'Lord Sageras…'

'Seek out my Eye.' proclaimed Sageras 'Seek it and the wounds of the Legion shall be healed.'

Then they saw it. A green eye that radiated terrible power. Kazzak looked upon it with awe. Kirrasan stood back and watched. Then they were back where they had been before.

'An omen!' said Kazzak 'That was a message from Sageras himself! We must heed it!'

'And we shall.' said Kirrasan 'But we cannot do so in great force. No, Lord Kazzak, you must take such Doomguards as you can trust and seek this Eye. I will ensure that no harm comes to Lord Archimonde while you are here.'

Kazzak eyed her suspiciously.

'I did see the vision as well.' said Kirrasan.

'So be it.' said Kazzak. 'Though I do not know where to look, I shall quest for the Eye of Sageras till my dying day if I must.'

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Sorry it took so long to get this up. I took a break from this story to focus on other things after I got a bit burnt out.


	34. Landfall

**Chapter Thirty-four: Landfall**

Prince Kael'thas Sunstriders party came ashore along with Arthas and together they peered into the formidable jungle which had grown up. The trees here were all fairly short. He noticed and there was a great deal of moss. The sun beat down on them hard and he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, wishing that the wind would pick up. The air here was hut and humid.

'These trees are all very young.' said Malfurion 'They have not been growing long. Either someone clearcut this area, or more likely, there have been no trees here until very recently.'

'I know this island.' said Kael'thas.

Arthas looked at him in surprise. 'You do?'

'Yes.' said Kael 'During the Second War I accompanied Daelin Proudmoore on an expedition to intercept the Warlock Gul'dan. He raised this island from the sea floor and went inland.

We ended up in a pitched battle with the Twilight Hammer clan. We killed most of them, including Cho'gall, but Gul'dan was never found. He entered an unholy shrine which prisoners called the Tomb of Sageras.'

'Sageras?' Malfurion looked up sharply. 'What could have killed him?'

'The Sorceresss Aegywynn slew him in single combat and buried the remains under the sea.' said Kael'thas. 'Gul'dan was seeking his Tomb in the hopes of gaining the Dark Titan's power.'

'A futile pursuit for any mortal.' said Malfurion 'Yet how could this Aegywynn have slain Sageras? I do not think there is any power that could match him.'

'She was not alone.' said Alara 'The Red Dragon Flight assisted her in it. Queen Alexstrasza, Malygos, Ysera and Nozdormu all provided their aid to her.'

'I'm sorry, I do not believe we have been introduced milady.' said Kael'thas.

'Someone who has traveled a ways and seen a great many things you haven't.' said Alara 'Aegywynn was an egomaniac. A talented narcissist who took sole credit for Sageras' death and downplayed everyone elses roles in her achievements so as to make herself look better.

'She thought of her status as the Guardian of Tirisfal as her personal property, rather than a duty which had been passed down only to the worthy.

'She made great displays of power when the situation called for subtlety, was easily manipulated, and her attempt to ensure she had complete control of the position ended in absolute disaster.'

'You were a member of the Order of Tirisfal, weren't you?' asked Arthas.

'Yes. Yes I was.' said Alara 'But I left it.'

'Why?' asked Arthas.

'Because I realized the Guardians were doing too little.' admitted Alara 'Aegywynn was so reckless and idiotic in how she conducted herself that we overcompensated and drew back our hand too quickly from a world which had come to rely on us.

'Not that it would have made a difference if we had involved ourselves. By the time of Medivh we were a glorified country club.'

'…Even so, Kael, why aren't these islands on any maps?' asked Arthas 'You should have recorded its location, at least.'

'Because Daelin and I decided that we didn't want anyone to know where the Eye of Sageras was.' said Kael 'We had the navigators sworn to secrecy, burned all our charts, and made several spells to weaken the memory of the place.

'We also made no official report to the Alliance on the subject.'

'You could have set a guard on the Tomb.' noted Arthas.

'If we had a set a guard sooner or later someone would have come up with the bright idea of trying to access the Dark Titans power.' snapped Kael'thas 'Given that Gul'dan, one of the most powerful warlocks to ever live, was killed trying to get in, we decided that it was safe enough on its own.

'The best protection was no one knowing it existed.'

They walked a little further inland and suddenly came to a great arc of carefully carven stone. Choral had grown up over it at some point and many dead seashells were lying around it. Malfurion stopped and stared. 'It can't be.

'What is it, Lord Stormrage?' asked Kael'thas.

'These ruins. I recognize this place.' said Malfurion 'This is the ancient city of Suramar where our people once had their capital. It was lost beneath the sea when the Well of Eternity was destroyed ages ago.

'I remember I always hated this place.

'Still, we should move inland. I sense something, a presence… Yes, some of my own people are here.'

'Then let's go to meet them.' said Arthas 'Lead on.'

They didn't have to go far. Not half a mile inland they found a village like nothing else they had ever seen. There were many trees and all of them had humanoid features. Rough arms of wood and beards of leaves and gnarled eyes. Houses were built into these and some also had doorways which opened up inside.

Many night elves were here as well as other creatures. Among them were beautiful woman with the lower bodies of deer. One, taller than the rest, rode up to them. 'Thank Elune! The watchers have sent reinforcements!'

'Greetings to you Dryads.' said Malfurion 'Forgive me, but I did not know any of your kind had homes in this place.'

'Malfurion Stormrage?' said the leader 'I am glad you are here.'

'Who are you? And how did you come here?' asked Malfurion.

'I am Istral of the Watchers.' she replied 'A little over fifteen years ago Cenarius felt a great upheaval in this area of the ocean. My watchers and I were dispatched to investigate it. Creatures called orcs and humans had waged a battle here before we arrived. They were like those who traveled with you.'

'Ah yes.' said Malfurion, looking to them. 'This is Prince Arthas Menethil, and Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider. Kael'thas and his people are descended from the Highborn. They are journeying west with me to meet with Cenarius on a matter which I will not speak of here.

'Yet you have spoken of war. Who is it you have been fighting?'

'Strange creatures who call themselves the naga.' said Istral 'They came here some time after we did. They hate us bitterly for reasons we do not know and have set up their breeding grounds in the shallows around the Tomb of Sageras. Cenarius ordered us to establish a village here to observe the situation.

'We have skirmished with them for years.'

'Then we will aid you against them.' said Malfurion.

'Are you certain we should become involved in this, Malfurion?' asked Kael'thas.

'Kael'thas the situation has changed since you left here.' said Arthas 'If the Dark Titan's power is still in that tomb than chances are the Burning Legion is going to go after it eventually. We should secure the Tomb with all haste and establish colonies here to guard the entrance.'

'By your leave, Prince Arthas, no.' said Alara.

'You have something to say, Alara?' asked Arthas.

'I do not believe we should be so quick to seek battle.' said Alara 'These naga may well have perfectly good reasons for their hatred of the night elves. If so, then we should seek reconciliation rather than to escalate the war.'

'I agree with the Lady Alara.' said Kael'thas 'I don't see that starting yet another war will do anything to help our cause. And if these naga are attacked they may make common cause with our enemies.'

'I see. Perhaps you are right.' said Malfurion.

'Very well then.' said Arthas reluctantly. 'Abbendis establish our forces near this village and build fortifications. Look for a suitable and unnocupied sight for a settlement. Prince Kael'thas since you are so eager to negotiate I'll leave the matter to you.'

'Your trust is appreciated, Prince Arthas.' said Kael'thas.

'I am not sure that establishing colonies in this place is wise, Prince Arthas.' noted Malfurion ruefully. 'We may provoke reprisals.'

'Kalimdor is mostly barrens unsuitable for planting crops.' said Arthas 'There may not be enough space for all of our colonists. More importantly, these islands have a strategic location between Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. From here we can easily control the sea lanes, so long as we establish a naval base.'

'For my part, Archdruid Stormrage, if these allies of yours are to be trusted, I would welcome the help.' said Istral 'We have sensed darkness growing in Azeroth and I fear this place may soon be attacked.'

'I will vouch for them. And you are right about the darkness.' said Malfurion 'Though sorely wounded Archimonde walks this world again.'

* * *

Kael'thas traveled according to the directions Istral had given him. He and Sylvanas made their way through the channels with only a small escort. No night elves traveled with them. Eventually they came to see the snake men Istral had spoken of.

The males were huge and monstrous with the upper bodies of humanoid dragons and the tails of snakes. Their warriors wielded tridents and spears. The workers were all mur'gols who worked busily under the whips of the snake men. The females had the upper bodies of beautiful women and six arms each.

Many huge choral reefs had been built throughout the shallows. And there were also other huge buildings with statues and great pools filled with eggs.

'Hold here.' said Kael'thas 'And bring up the white flag of parley. I do not want them to think us a threat.'

'Are you sure this is wise, Prince Kael?' asked Sylvanas 'We may come under attack and we are far from the rest of the fleet.'

'We'll be ready to make a run for it if we must.' said Kael.

Into sight then came a female naga, flanked by two huge males. She was taller than the others and far more beautiful with a curvaceous form and gleaming scales. She had many snakes for hair and she held a bow in her hands. Coming to a halt before the ship she looked up. Kael'thas looked down at her.

'I am Lady Vashj, Sea Witch of Azshara.' she said 'What business do you surface dwellers have in the domain of the naga?'

'Greetings to you, milady. I am Kael'thas Sunstrider of the High Elves.' said Kael 'I wish there to be no ill will between our peoples. We do not seek any conflict with you or your kind.'

'Fine words.' said Vashj 'However you walk in the company of our hated enemies, the night elves.'

'What quarrel is there between you, may I ask?' asked Kael.

'Long ago we were of the same race. We were the citizens of Surumar who stayed loyal to our Queen, Azshara.' said Vashj 'Then the cursed nightelves destroyed the Well of Eternity. We were transformed by the magics into the shape you see before you.'

'Then our peoples are kindred, are they not?' asked Kael'thas 'For mine are descended from those who fled night elven lands rather than submit to the night elves.'

'And yet you travel in their company. Why is this, young Prince?' said Vashj.

'My people had the source of our power in the Sunwell.' said Kael 'Now that Sunwell has been corrupted and we are suffering terribly. We hope that the night elves may help us.'

'There are other sources of power, young Kael.' said Vashj 'Demons for instance.'  
'I assure you, milady, we will never be that desperate.' said Kael'thas.

Silence fell between them. After a moment Vashj looked to her guards, then back. 'What is it you wish of me, young Prince?'

'Merely for our people to be able to live in these lands upon the surface without the need for battle.' said Kael'thas 'In return I will gladly keep my own people away from the Tomb of Sageras.'

'You know of it, do you?' asked Vashj 'Why do you hold such an interest in this land.'

'Many of our enemies may seek to claim the Dark Titan's power.' said Kael 'We hope to safeguard the Tomb against those who might rob it.'

'Then we are here on common purpose, good prince.' said Vashj 'We naga established these settlements here to protect our sacred ground. Sageras was the beloved of our Queen and his fall a great tragedy.'

'Our own tales tell of him as a destroyer of worlds.' said Kael'thas.

'History is written by the victor, young Kael.' said Vashj 'And the night elves have colored all of it. But this is beside the point. So long as your people do not intrude upon our villages I shall speak to the ruler of this land and see if she will assent to peace.

'It is ultimately her decision. Not mine. I am but the emmisary.'

'I thank you, Lady Vashj.' said Kael.

Things were off to a good start, all things considered.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

So I recently got a very good comment from a guest. Since I can't respond to them via PM I will respond here:

Your complaint is that there is an inconsistancy between Arthas being a straight up hero, and being a ruthless utilitarian. I'm afraid you've stumbled across the core conflict of Arthas' character. He is both hero and utilitarian. He genuinely wants the best for his people, but the Scourge of Lordaeron campaign has left him scarred emotionally. He has become paranoid about being betrayed by those close to him, and he is filled with impotent rage.

In the conversation with Brigitte he did genuinely care about what happened to her. He just also viewed it as an opportunity to have a sympathetic ear in the paladin order. And frankly, he'll be a better King for it. A KIng isn't supposed to concern himself with high ideals at the expense of the people he is ruling. The Silver Hand is a powerful political entity and needs to be kept under control.


	35. The Legion Cometh

**Chapter Thirty-six: The Legion Cometh**

Gul'dan stared out across the water from his skeletal ship eagerly. Weeks ago he had been dead. Weeks ago his spirit had been imprisoned within his own skull. He'd been unable to do anything but influence. Yet this was not weeks ago.

Now he was whole again. Not in his original body, but it was better this way. Now he need never fear dying of old age. Now he need never worry about joint pain.

Of course, the Lich King thought he controlled Gul'dan. But he did not. And when he found the Eye of Sa,geras he would settle accounts. With both of his old masters. He would absorb the power of the Frozen Throne and add it to the Eye of Sageras. From there he would destroy Kil'jaden and take the Legion as his own.

"Is it true that you fought Tichondrius?" came a question.

Gul'dan looked up and saw a doomguard. This one was very keen. And also loyal for a doomguard. It would not do to arouse his suspicions. "No. I fought Tichondrius and the assembled hosts of all the demons in the Tomb of Sageras. I was winning until another demon backstabbed me."

"You must be far more formidable in power than I had judged you." said Kazzak.

"Fools underestimate me at their peril." said Gul'dan. "And what of you? What do you intend to do with the Eye of Sageras once you get it?"

"I will return to Lord Archimonde and use its powers to heal him." said Kazzak.

He was joking. How could a demon have advanced so far with so little ambition? "That's all? You've never even considered doing anything else with it?"

"We Doomguards prize loyalty above all else." said Kazzak. "A Doomguard without loyalty to his commander is no Doomguard at all."

"Very convenient for Kil'jaden." said Gul'dan. "He need not fear you. Yet what is it that Archimonde did for you that you are so loyal?"

"He is the anointed one of Sageras." said Kazzak. "His chosen successor. To strike him down would be a betrayal of unfathomable evil. That is reason enough."

"And why are you so devoted to the cause of the Legion?" asked Gul'dan. "I have never heard that story."

"We doomguards were once wielders of light, much like the humans." said Kazzak. "We built our civilizations and made our castles upon pillars of salt. We had no purpose, no reason for being. Our wars for plunder could not satisfy us.

"Then came the annihilan, or pit people as we called them."

"Mannoroth's kind." guessed Gul'dan.

"Yes. They were not demons in those days. Just a fel race." said Kazzak. "They attacked our world and put villages to the sword. There were many great battles, and our guardians stood by and watched."

"I think I can guess as to what happened next." said Gul'dan. "You proved yourself worthy and a Legion Lord converted you to worship them."

"Nothing of the sort. We defeated the annihilan but were convinced by our guardians not to destroy them. They told us that all things had the potential for goodness. They preached forgiveness, and we listened. They said that the annihilan had been corrupted by demons. And so many among our kind preached peace between our peoples.

"We united and together fended off an invasion by the Burning Legion. There was a great celebration."

Gul'dan stared at him. "…I don't understand."

"A few years later the annihilan changed leadership and started another all-out war." said Kazzak. "Much devastation was caused in our world, and irreparable harm was done. We drove them back and defeated them again. Once again our guardians preached mercy and forgiveness.

"A few years after that the annihilan started another war."

"I am beginning to see a pattern here." mused Gul'dan. Didn't people realize that when you spared your enemies, they just stabbed you in the back.

"You should." said Kazzak. "A third time our guardians preached peace and our leaders were on the verge of giving it. Then Sageras came to the greatest of our warriors, Kazrak and revealed to him the truth. Our guardians wanted us to meet bloodlust with mercy. To never seek vengeance for the harm done to us. Thus the annihilan had been free to brutalize and murder without fear of reprisal.

"Our world was now in ashes. The forests were blighted and ruined. The landed was cracked and shattered. Everything we had once loved about it had been crushed to dust by the annihilan. Our people were starving in the barren wastes. And our guardians were still preaching peace. Our guardians were responsible for it.

"We fell upon our guardians, and we killed them all. We took their power for our own and were granted more power by Sageras. We fell on the annihilan and slaughtered every man woman and child in their villages. We drove them back to their own world and there butchered them by the tens of thousands. And we fell on their guardians, who had allowed them to come to our world, and killed all of them.

"Then Sageras revealed the secrets of the universe to us.

"The very nature of this world ensures that mercy and forgiveness end in ruination and death. While bloodlust, selfishness, and ambition lead to gain and power. The world itself had allowed the annihilan to flourish. Our attempts to be better only led to greater evils.

"It was then that we realized that the universe was beyond saving. It must be destroyed so that something better might take its place.

"Of course it was only after that we found out that the annihilan had been sent after us by Kil'jaden in the first place. Somewhat ironic really."

"What happened to the annihilan?" asked Gul'dan.

"Well the remnants of them were ascended into demons." said Kazzak. "They had succeeded in their mission after all. But there were very few of them left by the time they did. We saw to that. As for us, we Doomguards still have a mortal population. More of us are being ascended into demonhood every day.

"Let me ask you something. How did Kel'thuzad bring you back?"

Gul'dan would have smiled if he had skin. "When he absorbed the Skull of Gul'dan Kel'thuzad also absorbed my soul. I attempted to seize control of him and was interfering with his efforts. So he took my soul and created the ghostly form you see here today.

"I am diminished now. Yet I have other powers."

Kazzak considered this. Then he looked up. "Is that the island?"

Gul'dan looked up and smiled. There before them was the island. It had changed much. Great trees had grown up there. Vines covered the ruins. The choral reef beds which had been island had died.

Yet Gul'dan sensed something. A great power.

"Yes. I know it better than anything else. However, I sense many forces upon it." said Gul'dan. "Humans, elves, and something else."

Kazzak pointed. Gul'dan followed the gesture and saw the shallow part of a river around the tomb itself. There a great many choral reefs had been grown. There appeared to be a settlement of creatures. They were similar to merlocs and they were being watched over by snake creatures.

"Snake creatures. Do you know what they are?" asked Kazzak.

"No." admitted Gul'dan. "They were not here when last I arrived."

"Well let us fall upon them and destroy them." said Kazzak.

"Not yet." said Gul'dan. "If we approach by sea they'll have the advantage. Better to go ashore and strike from the landward side. "Our position is not a strong one, mighty Kazzak."

"Yes. I see your point." mused Kazzak. Then he turned to his lieutenant. "Rezelikh gather the men and establish portals upon that part of the island. We will not start any battles if we can avoid it." He paused as he saw his second in command. Rezeligh was wearing a long black skirt which hid his robes. Kazzak paused. '…Rezelikh why are you wearing a-"

"This is not a dress! It's the standard dreadlord uniform!" said Rezlikh quickly.

"Since when?" asked Kazzak.

"I was informed that the standard uniform had changed by Anetheron himself." said Rezelisk.

"I think that was a lie." said Gul'dan.

"Why would Anetheron lie about such a thing?" asked Rezelikh.

"I couldn't say." said Kazzak in deadpan.

Gul'dan turned his attention and sensed far afield; He sensed the humans and elves going to meet the naga. They were by the riverbank.

"…Interesting." said Gul'dan.

"What is, Gul'dan." asked Kazzak.

"The naga appear to be having a meeting with the Alliance." said Gul'dan.

"Then we'll just have to strike before their meeting can come to anything." said Kazzak. "Ready for battle my warriors! Crush them all!"

* * *

The more Malfurion stood among these naga, the less enthusiastic he was about the meeting. Kael'thas and the others spoke of them as though they were any other race. Yet Malfurion sense a sort of taint from them. Something he did not like.

"These naga are unlike anything I've ever seen before. How did you ever negotiate with such foul creatures?" he asked Kael'thas.

"Lord Stormrage, I must ask you to show all due courtesy to them, whatever your feelings." said Kael'thas. "These are sensitive negotiations and we cannot afford a battle at this stage."

"Yes, I understand." said Malfurion. "If it is possible for us to coexist with them violence will not begin by our hand. Still, why would they worship Sageras?"

At that moment Lady Vashj arrived. Her wide hips swayed as she slithered forward to bow to Prince Kael'thas, drawing very near. "We have come Prince Kael, as you requested. I have been given authority to negotiate in these matters."

'Very well then." said Kael'thas. "Come, I have prepared a pavilion where we may speak. There is wine, if you wish for it, as well as refreshments."

"Your generosity is appreciated, young Kael. However, I would prefer to discuss these matters with a clear head." said Vashj.

"As you wish. We may-" began Kael.

Suddenly there was a horn call. A moment later there was a flash of fel light. Malfurion looked up to see a line of undead rushing at the naga. Battle was joined as a figure came forward, hurling unholy spells to burn coral reefs to ashes in moments.

"Invaders from the land!" said Vashj. "Those are doomguards." said Arthas. "The legion has come! Abbendis, rally our forces, we'll go to the nagas aid.'

Abbendis immediately rushed off. Yet Vashj looked to Arthas with narrowed eyes. "You will keep your forces out of our waters. These demons will not pierce our defenses." said Vashj.

The naga males rushed forward with spears. They cleaved through the undead lines and came to battle with the doomguard. The female naga sent forth spells which sent dooguards spinning into the airs. Others creating defensive spells of ice for the doomguard.

And then came forward a massive doomguard. Wielding a whip of flame in one hand, he lashed out with it and slew the front rank of myrmidons. He waded into the fray, hacking and cleaving.

"Fear us, serpents of the sea!" cried the demon. "Kazzak." said Arthas.

And then great meteorites descended from the sky. They crashed amid the naga formation. As the naga scattered the flaming rocks transformed into infernals. They cleared the way and then stood in formation as between them marched a hooded and cloaked figure. "Is that… it can't be!" said Kael'thas. "Who is that?" asked Arthas. "Gul'dan. Gul'dan has returned." said Kael'thas.

Malfurion did not know why. But the very mention of this creatures name sent chills down his spine.

"Lady Vashj," said Kael'thas "you cannot hold them alone. Let us bolster our forces with your own, please."

"Very well." said Vashj. "I accept your offer."

"Forward!" cried Arthas. "Relieve the naga at once!"

Malfurion looked to his warriors. "Come my brothers! We must go to the human's aid!"

Night elves and alliance rushed down toward the legion. Yet even as they went after them, the infernals rushed forward to attack them. The rest of the legions forces withdrew. Battle was joined. Malfurion brought many trees to life and sent them against the infernals. Kael'thas hurled magical fire. Arthas cleaved one down with his hammer.

Then Vashj screamed to a sky. A great whirlwind arose and struck the ghouls and infernals. In moments the creatures were torn apart in great lines. Yet when it settled the demons had withdrawn. They could see them boarding ships and sailing away.

What were they planning? The attack had been too quick. Doomguards did not withdrawl without better reason than this.

"That was far too easy." said Arthas.

"The Tomb of Sageras!" cried Vashj. "The legion has attacked it! Quickly, before they enter!"

They rushed to the tomb. There they found many naga guards slain. The doors had been blasted down. Yet a shield was in the way.

Arthas halted. "Abbendis, secure this region. Make sure the demons don't attack again. Help the naga in any way we can."

"As you command, Prince Arthas." said Abbendis. "The enemy will not pass our sight."

"Lady Vashj, I suggest we enter after them." said Kael.

"There is no choice now." said Vashj. "Still, it could not have been a large force which came here. And there are many dangers within the tomb."

"We must move quickly." said Kael'thas. "Every passing moment means Gul'dan is closer to his goal. He cannot be allowed to find the Eye of Sageras."

"I will remain here with my brethren." said Malfurion. "More of the enemy may come. Prince Kael'thas, you should remain as well."

"No." said Kael. "I have a score to settle with that Warlock. And I mean to settle it today. Sylvanas, you will command my forces in my absence."

"Fair enough." said Sylvanas.

"Then it is decided." said Vashj. "We will journey into the sacred lands of my people. And woe to any who stand in our way."

The shield was broken and they ventured within.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I'd like to apologize for the obscenely long wait I put you through for this fanfic. I kind of got burned out and turned my mind to other fics. This chapter in particular gave me serious problems

See I meant originally for Gul'dan to make an appearance at the parley. That way there could be a sort of friendly enemies moment with the naga. But no matter how I tried to write it, Gul'dan just refused to do it. With Kazzak on board didn't work.

When you try to write characters, real characters, sometimes they just go off the rails.


	36. The Eye of Sageras

**Chapter Thirty-six: The Eye of Sageras**

Kazzak looked around him in wonder as he walked throughout the hallowed halls. There were places where the yellow stone arches had fallen in. In other places, the designs on the walls had been eroded by ages of seawater.

Yet it was still as magnificent within as without. Indeed, there was a ruinous wonder to the place.

"I never dreamed I would ever be standing here. In this sacred place." he said.

"It is impressive architecture." admitted Gul'dan, his staff tapping the ground. "But it pales in comparison to the prize which lies within. Come Kazzak. Our destiny awaits."

"Why are you so focused on destiny?" asked Kazzak. "Destiny fulfills itself. One should try to look to the wayside now and then."

"I suppose." mused Gul'dan. "Still, I'd rather sight see at a time when we are not being pursued by enemies." They halted suddenly as they turned a corner. There were many red markings upon them, glowing with magic. Gul'dan smiled as he looked at them.

"What is this?" asked Kazzak.

"A record. Written by me." said Gul'dan. "I thought it would be my last legacy. But I have beaten that."

Kazzak read it. Gul'dan had led a team of warlocks deep into the depths and ordered them to fan out. Yet something bothered him. "So you led a large group of warlocks down here then? Why no warriors?"

Gul'dan grunted. "Daelin Proudmoore interfered. I had to have them take a defensive stance to hold them off. I was not expecting the Eye to be guarded. It had been beneath the sea for a very long time, after all."

"Right." said Kazzak.

They marched on. As they walked a force of doomguards suddenly rushed around the corner. They held huge weapons in hand and brandished them. "Turn back you mortals! None may defile the tomb of Sageras!"

"Stay your blade, warrior. " said Kazzak. "I am Kazzak! Do you hear me? Kazzak?!"

The yell halted them in their tracks. They fell to their knees at once. "My Lord, I did not know it was you."

"What has brought you warriors to this place?" asked Kazzak.

"Fifteen years ago when the Warlock Gul'dan was killed by Tichondrius he summoned a number of us." said the warrior. "He charged us with protecting this place from all who did not have Kil'jaden's blessing."

"Why did he not simply take the Eye of Sageras while he was here?" scoffed Gul'dan. "Was he a fool?"

"No mortal or immortal save perhaps Archimonde could properly wield the Eye." said the warrior. "And he has forbidden its use. Did Tichondrius send you?"

"Tichondrius is dead, happily." said Gul'dan. "I am here to salvage his mistakes."

The warrior narrowed his eyes. "Who is this, Kazzak?"

"This is the sorcerer Gul'dan." said Kazzak. "He has been restored to serve the Legion once more. He and I have been sent to retrieve the Eye. Lord Archimonde has been sorely wounded and we will need it if we are to save him."

A murmur of unease went through them. "Archimonde wounded?" asked the warrior. "These are dark times indeed. I stand ready to die in your service."

"Gather your brethren." said Kazzak. "There is a large force of our enemies coming in after us. They are too powerful for us to face alone. You and your warriors must delay them as long as you can, though I fear they may be too powerful for you to defeat.

"Our mission rests on our actions today."

"So be it!" cried the warrior. "Complete your mission, Kazzak! These foul intruders shall find our steel waiting for them!"

Kazzak clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. "Fight well, brothers. And farewell."

They marched on past. As they walked they saw many of the denizens of the tomb mustering for war. Hydras and murlocs and sludgelike monstrosities. Behind them, they could hear the sound of spells and steel. Their pursuers were now fighting with the guards. Yet with all the creatures within this place, Kazzak was certain they would have the time they needed.

His fallen brethren had met an honorable end. And their sacrifice might well mean the Legion's victory. Kazzak was proud of them.

As they walked they came to yet more runes. These ones' told of the warlocks splitting up into many places. Kazzak gazed at them in surprise. "So you were alone. Why did you tell the other warlocks to fan out? Were you trying to get them all killed?" "Actually yes." admitted Gul'dan, voice amused. "I expected to have to fight them when we reached the Eye. This way they would, at least, distract the guardians."

"So there was no trust between you then?" asked Kazzak.

"Not after what they forced me to do, no." said Gul'dan. His voice held anger. Deeply personal anger. Kazzak wondered what act could make someone with so few standards so furious. It must have been something truly depraved. "Come, we should move on."

On they marched. And the sound of combat was drawing steadily nearer. Then they came to yet more runes. And these one were different. Kazzak gazed at them in surprise. They chronicled Gul'dan's last moments. He died alone, wounded, with no one to help him. "…This is blood?"

Gul'dan shrugged. "I was somewhat lacking in ink. I wonder why no one washed it off."

"We doomguards like to leave markers demonstrating where our enemies attacked our fortresse." said Kazzak. He wrote his log in his own blood? That wasdeterminationn. "Yet why were you writing? Surely it could not help you."

"I always knew it was possible I would die before I became a god." said Gul'dan as they walked on. "That I might fail. So I took to writing in my spare hours. If I will not live on for eternity, then let my knowledge and legacy live on in my stead."

"Wise words." said Kazzak. "Yet we doomguards believe that it is only through service to the whole that ones truly becomes great. All of us are warriors in our own right. Yet at the same time we are one."

"Interesting." said Gul'dan. "I am surprised such shamanistic beliefs have survived in a race devoted to the Legion." His voice was a little too condescending for Kazzak's tastes.

"I know well that other demons do not believe in the cause." growled Kazzak. "The pit lords use it only as an excuse to cause blood and death. Yet we doomguards do serve the cause. And we have never failed in our duty since the day we were uplifted."

"Well just see to it that you do not in the future." said Gul'dan, voice eager. "We are nearly there."

They passed to the great doors. Here Gul'dan tried to push them aside. Yet they would not budge. Stepping back Gul'dan raised his hands. "Keep watch. It will just take me a moment to open these. We need only a little time."

As he began to channel power, Kazzak heard the weapons very near. He could make out individual voices among them, now. One was Arthas, the Prince he had faced before. Kazzak felt somewhat torn as Gul'dan chanted.

On the one hand, another duel with Arthas would be a welcome pleasure. On the other, the situation was to their disadvantage. Reluctantly he hoped Gul'dan finished soon.

Now the sound of fighting had stopped. The sound of armored feet was in the air. Kazzak looked to Gul'dan. The warlock sent a bolt of green energy forward. It hit the door and the stone portal shattered into thousands of pieces.

"Through the door!" said Gul'dan. "We must gain the Eye!"

They rushed through. And Kazzak saw it. It coursed with the power of the Void. To look at it was to look at the end of all things. And to imply the great renewal which would follow this failed universe's fall.

"Yes… here it is." said Gul'dan, walking forward and reaching out with one hand. "At long last I have it. It… is… mine…" His hand froze, and he shook visibly. Kazzak glanced back to the hall. The alliance would be here soon.

"Is something wrong?" asked Kazzak.

"…My will is not my own." said Gul'dan, voice quiet. "I am enslaved to that cursed Ner'zhul once again… No… I will… not… be… denied this…"

"Perhaps you should have your crisis of faith later, Warlock." said Kazzak as the enemy rounded the corner and rushed into the room. "Good day to you, Prince Arthas."

"Kazzak." said Arthas.

The high elf stepped forward. "It has been a long time, Gul'dan."

Gul'dan looked up. His eyes narrowed as fel energies rose around him. There was recongntion in that gaze. "I have no idea who you are."

The high elf narrowed his eyes. "I am Prince Kael'thas! We did battle in the Ghostlands of Quel'thalas."

"I've done battle with many people." noted Gul'dan. "Remind me, what exactly is Quel'thalas and why should I care?"

"The high elven Kingdom you nearly laid to waste!" roare Kael'thas.

"Oh right, that backwater." said Gul'dan. "You'll have to forgive me. I was rather preoccupied by orcs and humans."

Kazzak laughed.

At which point the night elf male came forward. The power of nature coursed through him as he summoned vines from the ground. Here was the heart of nature itself, come to face them in battle. "Foul creature. Your unholy works-"

Gul'dan fired a bolt of energy which blasted him through the chest. "I heard enough of this nonsense from Velen."

Battle was joined. Kazzak rushed at Arthas and their weapons met in a flurry of strokes. Out of the corner of his eye, Kazzak spotted Gul'dan fending off a massive barrage of magical energy. Such was the intensity of it that Kazzak thought he'd be destroyed.

Yet Gul'dan seemed to be drawing strength from the Eye. And with the aid of Kazzak's escort, the battle went back and forth. One of the naga females from before summoning a whirlwind. It threw many of the doomguards against the wall. One of her arrows pierced another through the eye.

Kazzak stepped aside from one of Arthas' swing and bashed him with the pommel of his sword. It sent the Prince falling back. Kazzak brought down his sword to split his skull, but Arthas rolled aside in time before getting to his feet. A red-haired human woman cast a sphere of flame at Kazzak and he summoned a defense. Yet the power of it was beyond expectations.

He was thrown back and Arthas pressed his attack. Parrying several strikes, Kazzak leaped back and lashed out whip his whip. It wrapped around Arthas' hammer and with a pull he threw Arthas to one side. Things were going badly. The red-haired sorceress and Prince Kael'thas were hurling spells. They were rapidly burning through his escort.

Kazzak rushed up to Gul'dan, motioning to his remaining warriors to do the same. As they rushed to safety Gul'dan tapped the ground with his staff and a great wave of fire protected them. Moments later an onslaught of magic hit the shield and was scarcely deflected.

"This is going poorly." said Kazzak.

"Your powers of observation continue to astound." said Gul'dan. "The Eye may be of some use here then. How I loathe teleporting." He grabbed the eye. There was a flash of green light, and then they were standing on their ships, heading back to Northrend.

Kazzak smiled.

"Rejoice brothers!" he cried. "We have the Eye of Sageras! Now the destruction of this world is assured!"

* * *

There was a flash of green light and they were gone. Wiping the blood from his face Arthas rushed up to the place where the Eye had been. "Damn it! They got away!" "Don't worry about them, Arthas." said Alara. "Archdruid Stormrage needs your help now."

Arthas glanced back. Malfurion was bleeding heavily. He was surprised he had lasted that long. "Right. One moment." He rushed up to Malfurion and channeled the light into the wound. "How has he survived such a wound this long?"

"I know something of healing." admitted Alara.

"I thought you were a sorceress." said Arthas. The wound was knitting together now.

"I dabble in many skills." said Alara.

That was an excuse. The arcane arts did not transfer well into the art of healing. They were two completely different styles. It was possible that Alara had limited skill. But the explanation still didn't sit right with him. And if Alara has spent time on two different arts of magic, she should not have had anywhere near the level of power she had demonstrated today.

She was easily Kael'thas equal.

So why had he never heard of her? Something was wrong here.

"This is intolerable. They have escaped us!" hissed Vashj. "But they will not get far. The naga will scour the seas and rivers of this world. Nothing will stop us from reclaiming our lost artifact.

"For now, you have a new ally in the Naga, Prince Kael'thas."

"Excellent." said Kael'thas. "Once we've seen to Lord Stormrage we should return to the surface and get the colony underway." He looked to Vashj. "As for their destination, I know where they've gone."

"Where?" asked Vashj.

"To Northrend. It's where they have their base of operations." said Vashj. "There is already an Alliance Fleet en route there. You should go and aid them."

"We will discuss strategy aboveground." said Malfurion with a groan. "I have never seen such a powerful warlock."

"Gul'dan is the strongest of his kind." said Kael. "Can you stand?"

"Yes." said Malfurion, forcing his way up. "We have much work to do."

Wasn't that the understatement of the century?

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Well, here we have chapter 36. I didn't see Arthas or the others developing any in this chapter. And Kazzak is fun to write. So I figured I'd write this chapter from the bad guys perspective. It gives me a chance to develop his relationship with Gul'dan.

In fact, Kazzak has arguably been the main protagonist of these past few chapters. He's the one with the quest. He's the one with everything to lose. And he's also sort of the underdog.


End file.
